


from the concrete we bloom

by MooksMookin, spacegirlkj



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Bullying, Growing Up Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22793737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooksMookin/pseuds/MooksMookin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegirlkj/pseuds/spacegirlkj
Summary: They grow up together, side by side, inseparable. They grow up together and splinter apart. It's how Hinata falls, and how he stands up again.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Iwaizumi Hajime, Hinata Shouyou/Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 172
Kudos: 483
Collections: Nori's Literary Sanctum





	1. fireflies' home

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! this is new au! we've been working on this for. a long, long time. we were originally gonna post it all at once because of the content, but since we've posted trash au of all things, we figured we might as well post this too. updates to this story are going to be very, very slow. we dont work on this story often mostly because of the content and we currently almost have 3 chapters done. kj actually made a spotify playlist for this au which, if youre interested, you can listen to [here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0MKDykuhPQ7T1nWIjStwoc?si=6YdrD1zGRhK1kAMTWs6QFg)  
> i sincerely hope you guys enjoy this fic as much as we do. it holds a very close spot in both of our hearts. we both project a lot in this fic, and it means a lot to us. so without further ado, here's new au.  
> -mooks
> 
> \--
> 
> hey guys, welcome to new au. im proud of my writing in this au and its something thats hard to write about but i think i needa write about, if that makes any sense. anyways, fill your hearts with love. be kind to one another. i hope you enjoy this fic!!  
> ps: want some kj curated tunes? check out the playlist!  
> -kj

The cicadas are humming when the world falls from Hinata’s feet.

It’s the first time that their roles have changed, that Iwaizumi has been the one chasing after him, arms outstretched and hands grasping in the humid, heavy air. The beauty of the midsummer afternoon became blinding the instant Iwaizumi threw open the door, the instant Hinata caught his eyes and smiled like every time before. But this isn’t like before, by the bridge, by the river, in the woods by his camp. There is none of the same childlike joy here, on the roof of a school built on sharp words and bitter lies. All that is left is a shell of a face Iwaizumi used to say he knew as well as any other.

Maybe he could’ve ran faster, could’ve realized sooner. Maybe Iwaizumi could have worried a little more, spoken a little louder, or a little softer, or at all. 

Maybe he just made the right promises at the wrong time, just a second too late.

But his lungs are burning as they heave the perfume of July, and the cicadas have begun to scream loud enough to drown out whatever Hinata is saying. In the moments between now and then, a lifetime of regrets washes over Iwaizumi. It leaves every part of his body stained with the reality that he’s too late, that this moment will haunt him, that his mistake will haunt him, that Hinata Shouyou will haunt him.

Hinata closes his eyes, and Iwaizumi drops to his knees.

And the sun shines above both their heads.

—

Iwaizumi has known Oikawa since before he can remember. It’s the usual story of shared streets, shared postal codes, shared backyards and shared preschools, of camaraderie and friendship built half off of being next door neighbours and half off of winning the jackpot in scoring a friend with a complementary personality. Iwaizumi likes bugs and monsters and Oikawa likes legos and also monsters, but not bugs. The Iwaizumi family fridge contains just as many pictures of Oikawa as it does their own son, and the Oikawa household grows used to the familiar face poking through the screen door. 

They’re _friends,_ and best ones at that. They survive preschool smocks, first and second grade, school uniforms, and numerous squalls. Oikawa is there when Iwaizumi’s baby sister and brother come home, and Iwaizumi gets to join in on makeovers courtesy of Oikawa’s elder sister. For them, the world is theirs, a playground spanning out as far as the eye can see, past the shops and the suburbs and into the forest and the ponds. For them, their duo is all they need. They sell lemonade on the cul-de-sac of their sheltered street, walk past the friendly kitten rolling in the grass and toss rocks at the sold sign poking out of a home at the end of the street. Neither take much notice to anything except the kitten, which explains their shock when the empty house is filled.

It’s a few weeks after Oikawa’s eighth birthday, and Iwaizumi grumbles as his mother walks him towards the house at the end of the street. He’d complain more, but Oikawa is beside him and is already whining, so he shuts his mouth and scowls through the curiosity as they’re steered towards the driveway, walking all the way up to the front door. It’s painted a strange faded grey, chipping along the sides, with a brassy doorknob that distorts the reflection of Oikawa’s face. Iwaizumi elbows his side and points at it, earning him a huff and a shove as they both grin and make faces to watch their reflection, ignorant to Iwaizumi’s mother ringing the bell. Oikawa’s nose is pressed against the brass when the door pulls open, causing him to stumble forwards. Iwaizumi catches the back of his shirt and yanks him upright, staring up at the lady standing in front of them. 

She’s got an apron tied around her waist, paired with paint splattered jeans that remind Iwaizumi of the ones his mother forced him to change out of before going over. His mother makes animated small talk with her for a few moments, learning the lady’s name is Ayame as his mother introduces herself as Haruko. Iwaizumi turns to leave and inspect the dandelions growing in the yard only to spot a flash of ginger hair from behind the woman. He leans to the side to peer around her, garnering the lady’s attention. She turns, looking over her shoulder to smile and outstretch a hand to someone inside. 

“Shouyou, come meet the neighbours,” she says. The ginger hair promptly disappears around a corner, causing the lady to shake her head. “C’mon, there’s two boys your age here that came to say hello!”

Oikawa’s curiosity is piqued by now, and he leans against Iwaizumi to try and look further into the house, nearly pushing him into the wall. Before Iwaizumi can push him back, the ginger haired boy returns, walking down the hall with wide, cautious eyes and a hand already reaching for his mother’s. 

“This is Shouyou,” Ayame says, pulling him in front of her. “And these are?”

Haruko places her hands on Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s heads, ruffling their hair. “Hajime and Tooru. This one,” she says, messing up Oikawa’s hair a little more, “isn’t mine. He’s Ritsuko’s kid. She lives just beside us, on the other end of the street.”

Iwaizumi wrestles out of his mother’s grasp, sticking his tongue out at Oikawa as he pushes his bangs out from his eyes. His mother continues to chatter, all kind and welcoming as any good neighbour should be. Iwaizumi shifts his focus to the boy in front of him— Shouyou— and narrows his eyes.

He’s small, smaller than Oikawa, who is an inch shorter than Iwaizumi as of last Monday. His hair is wild and brighter than his mother’s black bob, and if Iwaizumi hadn’t just been told that he’s her kid, he’s not sure he’d think they were related at all. Golden eyes look up at him, wide and as glassy as the knob fixed to the front door. He’s timid, still pressed against his mother’s legs, mouth opening and closing like a koi fish as he tries to muster up the courage to speak.

“H-hello!” he finally says, looking between Oikawa and Iwaizumi with fear masked in a puffed chest and tilted chin. “I’m Hinata Shouyou, and I’m sticks!”

Ayame smiles down at him. _“Six,_ sweetie.”

“Six!” Hinata echoes, smiling wide. “I live here and I’m going to Shouji Elementary School and our phone number is—”

Haruko laughs as Ayame shushes him, hiding her own giggles with a smile Hinata mimics in full. Beside him, Oikawa scoffs, hands placed triumphantly on his hips, a self-satisfied glint in his eyes. “That means me and Hajime are two years older than you! _And_ we know how to count.”

Hinata’s mouth turns into a perfect _o_ as he bounces up and down, the floorboards under his feet creaking. “I know how to count too! I can count all the way to a hundred! I think!”

Iwaizumi raises a brow, Oikawa simply sighing. “Well _I_ can count to a thousand!”

At that, Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “When have you ever done that?” he asks, wrinkling his nose. 

“Yesterday,” Oikawa claims proudly. “Before bed.”

Iwaizumi wants to call him out on the lie, but Hinata beats him to it, giggling as he rocks back and forth. 

“That’s so cool! I’m gonna count to _two_ thousand tonight!” he challenges.

“Maybe you should try two hundred first,” Oikawa taunts, nose in the air. 

From then on, the world shifts just enough for the bubble of Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s world to tilt its axis. Two stays two only sometimes— it’s plus one when Hinata skips down the street and rings on their doorbells and smiles bright with missing front teeth. That summer, Oikawa sits next to Iwaizumi in the dirt of his mother’s garden and shouts, “It’s you ‘nd me versus the world!” He yells it at the top of his lungs, with Hinata trailing behind, running quick with shoes untied as he tries to keep up.

It’s fitting, though, for how their friendship tends to be.

—

Oikawa doesn’t take well to the newest part of their team. Hinata clings to him and Iwaizumi like a spider would to its web, trailing behind and echoing Oikawa’s words after he says them. It doesn’t help that Iwaizumi seemingly doesn’t mind, humoring Hinata’s excitement during their playtime together. It leaves an uncomfortable feeling in Oikawa’s gut as he watches Iwaizumi and Hinata’s per usual antics— Iwaizumi digging a bug out of the soil and presenting it to Hinata to see glee on the younger’s face. It’s a feeling Oikawa promptly decides that he doesn’t like, half because Iwaizumi stopped showing _him_ bugs after the one time it flew into his mouth and caused him to shriek loud enough to get them in trouble, and half for a reason he can’t quite discern. Hinata lets the bug, a fat, green caterpillar, climb up his arm while Oikawa plays in the wildflowers Iwaizumi overturned searching for it. Hinata giggles, smiling so wide that it probably hurts, and Oikawa, indignant and unamused, blows out the head of a dandelion right in his face. He laughs as Hinata sputters, but Hinata laughs along with him seconds later, and Iwaizumi sends Oikawa a look that he pointedly ignores.

There’s a path they discover that first year Hinata moves in that winds behind the fences of Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s backyard, down a hill and into a small meadow outback. There’s a shrine hidden in a cluster of trees that they dub The Woods, despite the forest wrapping around the entire town they live in either way. That shrine— worse for wear and forgotten, if the chipping paint is anything to go by— becomes their hideaway, a castle that Oikawa locks the doors in and casts everyone out of, save Iwaizumi, of course. Hinata, sometimes, but not if he can help it. 

There’s a statue of a fox that has remained immaculate, hidden under the roof of the shrine and protected from the elements, wooden posts made of sturdy cedar and painted red, holding up a black tin roof that has grown a layer of moss in its crevices. Oikawa’s kingdom is one where the throne is nothing more than a climbing post of a once sacred place, where his knight, or fellow king, or monster, or whatever the day calls for, can stand right at his side. Iwaizumi likes it there almost as much as he does, decides to craft a makeshift pond out of stones and fill it with buckets of water from home. It becomes home to frogs that leave each night and water spiders that glide along its surface. Iwaizumi tells him one of the frogs will probably become Godzilla, so that’s why he’s collecting them. Oikawa just hopes that when it grows up, it’ll terrorize a place far from here.

Hinata, much to Oikawa’s chagrin, finds the hideout enchanting. He begs to go there on the days where they play in the park instead, and takes any role Oikawa throws at him in their games of pretend. They’re both fond of watchkeeper, where Hinata climbs up the roof with surprising dexterity to look out across the woods, through the trees and towards the meadow, keeping an eye out for intruders who will never come. 

Iwaizumi only ever scoffs at his actions when it has no purpose. He’s not one to like constant attention, so he pushes with Oikawa for Hinata to play watchkeeper so he can have his time alone with the frogs. Oikawa wants to shout at Iwaizumi that the whole purpose of pushing Hinata away is so that they don’t have to worry about the odd number of three. 

It isn’t as if Oikawa _hates_ Hinata. More often than not, when he’s stopped focusing on trying to get Hinata to go back home or on the roof or _away_ in general, he finds himself laughing or playing along, enjoying having someone who doesn’t push back at his antics like Iwaizumi does for a change. But Oikawa is stubborn and Hinata is smaller and younger, and his sister _always_ teased him for being smaller and younger, so he guesses his reasoning is solid in poking Hinata’s side.

Cutting through that meadow near their kingdom shrine is a creek, shallow in the heat of the summer and flowing softly over stones. Oikawa isn’t sure how he hasn’t noticed it before— it’s got a bridge built across it and a nice wooden barrier along the top so that the bank doesn’t fall out— but he has now, warranting an investigation. He almost manages to get there with just Iwaizumi and him after a sleepover, but Hinata waits at the shrine and tags along, a bruise on his arm that they hadn’t seen before, skipping alongside them as they approach the stream.

It’s clear, running wide and leaving faded lines on the rocks going higher up the banks indicating how high it must rise come spring. The sun reflects off of the water and glares right into Oikawa’s eyes, causing him to squint as he kneels over the edge to look into the water, watching as a few fish swim on the current’s tail end. Iwaizumi steps over the wooden edge until his belly is flat against the bank, feet sitting next to Oikawa’s thigh, and reaches to touch the water. His fingertips brush one of the fish’s backs, causing it to flick its tail, and some of the water, into Iwaizumi’s face. 

Both Oikawa and Hinata break into laughter as Iwaizumi pulls himself back up, dusting himself off and flicking the dirt onto both Oikawa and Hinata, grumbling. It’s as he stretches out his arms and wipes his wet hand into the grass that Oikawa gets his idea.

“I dare you to run and jump onto the other side,” Oikawa announces to Hinata.

Hinata leans over so that he’s no longer blocked by Iwaizumi between them. “Me?” he asks, voice squeaking.

“Uh-huh! Unless you’re _chicken,”_ Oikawa teases, grinning as he leans back onto his hands. “I bet Hajime can—”

“I’ll do it!” Hinata shouts, already on his feet. He scurries back, shaking out his legs like a runner would before a race, determination set in his features as Oikawa’s stomach flutters. There’s no way he could make it to the other side, not even if he wanted him to. Beside him, Iwaizumi thinks much of the same thing, watching Hinata get ready with a look of disbelief and apprehension on his features that manifests in the furrow of his brow and lips thinned out. 

Hinata sprints by, sneakers kicking up grass as his feet leave the ground, arm outstretched, leaping across the creek. Oikawa and Iwaizumi both freeze, watching as the world goes still as Hinata’s arms spread out like wings beside him, hair wild and brighter than the blue sky and the sun beating down on their backs. For a fleeting moment as he approaches the bank, Oikawa wonders if he really will make it, hopes he really _does_ make it, thinks he just might do it and take them both by storm. 

Time steadies, and Hinata lands on the steep incline of the bank, shoes digging into the mud and clay. He stays there for half a second, Oikawa’s breath stolen with him, until the mud gets the better of him. Hinata’s hold slips from beneath him, feet flying over his head as he yelps, back colliding with the rushing water of the stream. A splash too large for a boy so small flings water up and onto Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s faces, causing the latter to sputter as laughter is ripped from his chest at the sight of Hinata’s bewildered expression as he lays, winded, in the running water. Rocking backwards, Oikawa looks over to Iwaizumi, only to see the other kicking off his shoes beside him.

“What’re _you_ doing?” Oikawa asks as his laughter slows to a stop, tongue caught between teeth.

Iwaizumi grins, shoes kicked away from the edge of the riverbank. “Taking your challenge!” he shouts, already getting a running start.

Oikawa doesn’t have time to tell him the challenge was never for him in the first place before Iwaizumi kicks off the ground and jumps into the air just as Hinata had moments before. In his case, his feet land on the sides of the bank as momentum sends him forwards instead of back. Oikawa holds his breath as Iwaizumi turns around, grinning and shooting him a proud look before he bends over to extend a hand to Hinata, still lying in the muck. With wide eyes and an even wider smile, Hinata takes it, Iwaizumi not caring for the mud and water that slicks up his palms. The two rise to stand, Hinata quickly glancing over his shoulder to meet Oikawa’s eyes. Golden meets brown, and Oikawa has to look away before he finds himself smiling too.

—

Late summer sunsets leave the hum of cicadas a fading static as the fireflies illuminate dusk as it settles across the streets. Iwaizumi and Oikawa draw pictures on the cracked asphalt in chalk, Hinata sitting on the edge of the grass, doing his best to colour his hands with red and blue. Music hums through the open windows of the Iwaizumi household, keeping the air from being too silent. Oikawa looks up from the spaceship that he’s drawing to watch Hinata outline his tiny hand in chalk, tongue poking out of the side of his lips in concentration. With a huff, he turns his attention to Iwaizumi, who’s space monster is gaining yet another eye. Before he can complain, something small and bright floats onto his nose, forcing his eyes to cross to focus on the bug that has just landed on his nose. He yelps and falls back, prompting the bug to fly away and catch the attention of the others.

“What was that?” Hinata asks, looking nervous.

“Nothing,” Oikawa snaps, embarrassed, at the same time that Iwaizumi answers.

“A firefly,” he says. “You scared it away, idiot.” Iwaizumi looks up, reaching his hand out to try and attract one of the many bugs to no avail, a frown making its way onto his face at the failed attempt.

Hinata looks around, eyes like flying saucers as he takes in the sight of tiny flickers of light dotting across the yard. The chalk slips from his hand, breaking into two as he looks up in wonder. Mouth slack, he awes in sight of the simple bugs that had scared Oikawa only moments ago. “I’ve never seen any of these before!”

“Really?” Iwaizumi asks. “They come out at night, when it’s summertime. Maybe you don’t remember them.”

Hinata shakes his head. “I dunno, I guess… they’re just so…” he trails off, cheeks pulled into a wide smile. “Where do they go? When it’s daytime?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “The forest, I think. Maybe they have a home there.” Oikawa is just about to huff and change the topic away from bugs when an idea sparks in his head, sending his chest into a flurry of excitement as he puffs out his chest. 

“Hey, Shouyou, why don’t you go find where they live?” he says, leaning towards him with a grin, chalk drawings and fear of bugs forgotten.

Iwaizumi furrows his brow, looking back towards his house. “Maybe we should—”

“Okay!” Hinata exclaims, eyes gleaming, excitement buzzing through his veins as he jumps to his feet.

“Wait, Shou—”

“I’ll find it and be back before you know it!” Hinata says, determined and confident. Before Iwaizumi or Oikawa can say anything more, he’s run off towards the path leading into the forest. 

They both stay frozen for a moment, before the silence is broken by a mosquito buzzing by Oikawa’s ear. He swats it away, grimacing as Iwaizumi glances towards the treeline with uncertainty.

“What’re you worrying about?” Oikawa asks, picking up his chalk and idly scribbling more colour onto his drawing. “He said he’ll be back.”

“Shouldn’t we go with him?” Iwaizumi says. “It’s dark out.”

“So? He knows the way just fine,” Oikawa huffs. Iwaizumi looks unconvinced, glancing at the treeline again. _“C’mon,_ Hajime, I’m _bored,”_ he whines. “Why don’t you like scaring him like you like scaring me?”

“He just laughs,” Iwaizumi answers. “Plus, he’s littler.”

“He’s _fine,_ he’s with us all the time anyways,” Oikawa says. “Let’s go play on the swings in my backyard. My hands are all chalky.”

Iwaizumi casts one more glance towards the treeline. “I’ll stay here and wait for him,” he says.

Oikawa sticks out his tongue. “Boo, you’re no fun!” he exclaims. “See ya when he comes back, then.”

With that, Iwaizumi watches as he skips across the yard and along the side of the house and out of sight. With not much else to do, Iwaizumi gathers up the chalk that’s rolled away and places it back into its bucket, taking a moment to step back and look at the drawings on the side of the road. His monster curls around Oikawa’s spaceship, which, while fully coloured in, unlike his, is much smaller and no match for the power of a creature with six eyes and seven arms. Curious, he steps over to where Hinata was drawing and looks at the mess of colours. It’s mostly handprints and flowers creating a circle, but in the centre of it all is something that makes him laugh. Surrounded by scribbles and stars and the crumbs of broken chalk are five hastily drawn portraits, one for each of them, and two others. One is of Hinata’s mom, only distinguishable by the apron tied around her waist, the other sporting eyebrows shaped in a V protruding off its head.

Keeping an eye on the treeline, Iwaizumi walks around in the long grass in his yard, avoiding stepping on his mother’s flowers as he reaches to catch a handful of the fireflies that twinkle and flicker as the sky continues to darken. He manages to trap three at once before feeling bad enough to let them go free, their glow illuminating his face as he looks up and watches them fly off. Head tipped to the sky, Iwaizumi stares up at the moon, the sheen bright in the velvety blue sky.

“You’re still out here?” 

Iwaizumi whips his head around to face Oikawa, surprise clear across his features. He fixes his overalls and slowly walks over, following Iwaizumi’s gaze up at the moon before staring at the treeline. Mouth opening to speak, he’s cut off by another voice calling out from down the street.

“Hey boys!” Hinata’s mother— _Ayame,_ Iwaizumi remembers— calls out, hands tucked in the pocket of her sweater. Oikawa waves as she approaches, her soft smile fading as her eyes flick between the two. “Where’s Shouyou?”

“He went into the forest,” Oikawa tells her, voice light as he rocks back and forth on his heels. “He should be back soon, though! Hajime’s been waiting for him for a while now.”

“Hajime? Tooru?” Iwaizumi’s mom says from the front porch. “You should be getting ready for bed.” She takes a step forward, spotting Hinata’s mother, and smiles. “Ayame, here to pick up Shouyou?”

“Shouyou’s in the forest, Haruko,” she says, voice much more worried than it was before.

“What?” Haruko replies, crossing the yard to approach Iwaizumi and Oikawa. “Do you two know anything about this?”

“I’ve been waitin’ for him,” Iwaizumi tells her. 

“He’s looking for the fireflies’ home,” Oikawa adds, shifting tensely, looking at Iwaizumi through the corner of his eye. Both Ayame and Haruko are sporting worry lines that crease the corners of their eyes, lips pulled tight as they begin to fret.

“We need to go find him,” Ayame says, voice strained, urgent, carefree demeanor vanished. “I can’t— he can’t come back and see— Shouyou has to—”

“Shh, we’ll find him,” Haruko assures her, placing a hand on Ayame’s shoulder. Ayame rests her head on Haruko’s shoulder, giving Haruko a chance to look over towards the two boys standing worriedly beside them. “Tooru, go get your mom and dad and tell them to grab some flashlights, okay? Hajime, your father is upstairs putting your siblings to bed, but can you tell him what’s happening?”

The two nod, looking towards each other in silent realization of what their actions have caused. Their stomachs twist for reasons more alike than different as their eyes linger on one another before they’re forced to look away and jog back to their respective houses and accomplish their respective tasks.

It takes another ten minutes for the parents to gather, Iwaizumi and Oikawa reunited in the foyer of the Iwaizumi family home, ears pressed to the door as the adults talk on the porch outside. It’s hard to hear, what with all of their whispering, making their attempt to understand what’s happening harder than it should be.

“D’you think they’re gonna find him?” Oikawa asks, voice quiet, wavering in the same way it does before he’s about to cry. Iwaizumi has heard this tone before, has talked Oikawa, the easy crier, through spider bites and scary movies and late night frustrations alike, but none of those moments have been quite like this. 

“They’ll find him,” Iwaizumi says, peeling his ear from the door to face Oikawa. It’s half confidence in his mother’s determination to do anything, and half a needed truth to assure himself Hinata comes back. Not a moment later does the door open, Iwaizumi’s father stepping through and shutting the door behind him.

“The women and your father, Tooru, are going out to look for Shouyou,” he tells them. “You two get to stay here with me. Have you brushed your teeth yet?”

Iwaizumi furrows his brow. “But dad, I can help—”

“And if we lose sight of you, too, then we have another missing kid to look for,” he says. “Sit tight— I’ll let you boys stay up and watch cartoons while they’re out looking, okay?”

Iwaizumi gnaws on his lip, looking down at the ground in frustration as Oikawa nods somberly, tugging on Iwaizumi’s sleeve to pull him upstairs. Iwaizumi pulls his sleeve from Oikawa’s grasp, following anyways as they climb the creaky stairs towards Iwaizumi’s bedroom on the top floor. He pushes the door closed behind them with his foot, Oikawa already having collapsed onto his bed.

“What were you thinking?” Iwaizumi asks, anger rising in his voice. 

“I wasn’t— I didn’t— I didn’t think he’d actually get himself lost!” Oikawa exclaims, looking up from the pillows. 

“It was _your_ idea—”

“I didn’t _want_ him to get lost, I don’t— I don’t— I—” Oikawa stammers, lip wavering as his eyes begin to water. Iwaizumi frowns. “H-Hajime, what if he’s— he’s— because of me—”

“Tooru!” Iwaizumi shouts, snapping him out of his thoughts. Oikawa meets his eyes, Iwaizumi heaving a sigh. “My dad said they’d find him. They’re gonna find him.” 

Oikawa blinks, doe eyes gleaming with fat tears that run down his face. His eyes are already red and puffy, nose already dripping as he sniffs and wipes it on the back of his hand. “Y’think?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer, the knot in his stomach tightening further as he grabs a handful of tissues from the box and sits next to Oikawa, handing it to him. “Here. D’you wanna go downstairs after we brush our teeth ‘nd stuff and watch Space Bears?”

Oikawa takes the tissues, blowing his nose as he nods. Slowly, he drops his hands from his face, chucking the wad of snotty tissue into the wastebasket on the other side of the room, Iwaizumi bumping shoulders with him. The last thing he needs is two friends out of reach. Weakly, Oikawa smiles, following him as they pad to the bathroom.

Even after scrubbing down and turning on the TV, the tension remains, if not between the two friends, then in the air. Iwaizumi’s dad alternates between checking on Iwaizumi’s siblings and looking out the back window towards the forest, fingers tapping on the glass in a rhythm that has Iwaizumi’s shoulders in knots, loaded like a mousetrap, holding his muscles taunt. In his emotional exhaustion, Oikawa had dozed off, face pressed into a couch cushion, leaving Iwaizumi to worry in silence. When the door clicks open, he’s already on his feet, cut off by his dad slipping outside to meet with his mom in private, only this time, there’s nothing to distract him from overhearing what the two say.

_“We haven’t found him yet. Ayame’s holding it together, but barely.”_

_“Is she alright?”_

_“She just wants her son back. Right now, that’s all we need to do for her.”_

Pulling away from the door, Iwaizumi takes a few steps back, heart sinking. His mind is already made up by the time he’s at the back door, shoes shoved on his sockless feet, jacket hastily slipped on as the door clatters behind him, cool night air hitting him like a train. He doesn’t stop running until he hits the forest path, trees looming dark and tall above him, somehow more menacing in the nighttime hours. Footsteps echo alongside the quiet chirp of crickets from the trees, his way illuminated by slivers of moonlight and not much else. All the fireflies thought to have been living amongst the trees have left, leaving Iwaizumi to drag his fingers along the bark of the biggest cedar and make a right, heading for the one place he knows by heart, one place Hinata might be.

The shrine stands proud, the clearing providing enough light that Iwaizumi doesn’t slip on his way up the stone stairs. Heart pounding in his ears, he turns around, looking up at the roof where Hinata plays watchkeeper, praying that he’ll reveal himself sometime soon. That prayer is answered in the form of a small cry and a sniffle coming from under the shrine’s roof. Nearly tripping over his own feet, Iwaizumi rushes in, following the sound of the noise to where Hinata sits, curled in a dark, secluded corner with his head resting against his knees, sobs quiet and as small as his frame seems against the darkness around them. 

“Shouyou,” Iwaizumi whispers, kneeling down in front of him. “Shouyou, I’m here.”

It takes a moment, but Hinata pulls his arms away, looking up over his knees. His eyes hold too much fear for someone so bright, for someone Iwaizumi is too used to seeing smiling. Iwaizumi reaches out a hand, startled at Hinata’s flinch at the sudden movement. The younger sniffles again, eventually taking it and pulling Iwaizumi closer, enough so that he can press close to his shoulder and bury his nose into Iwaizumi’s chest.

“I didn’t— didn’t— thi—think you were co—coming,” Hinata hiccups, letting himself be helped up by Iwaizumi.

“Your mom is lookin’ for you. Same with my mom and Tooru’s mom and dad. We’re all looking for you,” Iwaizumi tells him. “We need to go back now, okay?”

Nodding weakly, Hinata continues to lean onto Iwaizumi. “I— I tried to find the fireflies’ home, but I couldn’t,” he chokes out through his tears. “It got real dark and scary— and I didn’t know what to do, ‘cuz I hadn’t found it yet, so I— I—”

Iwaizumi puts his arms around Hinata, hugging him tight as Hinata cries into his shirt. “It’s okay. We can look for it in the morning, when it’s not dark out,” Iwaizumi murmurs, patting Hinata’s back. “You don’t have to be scared anymore, I’m here now.” Hinata nods, sniffling as Iwaizumi pulls back to look at him. “Let’s go back, okay?”

“Mhm,” Hinata hums, voice catching as another set of tears fall. Iwaizumi holds out his arm, which Hinata clings onto while desperately trying to wipe his tears away.

The two make their way slowly out of the woods and back onto the path. The white knuckle grip on Iwaizumi’s arm is a refreshing reminder that Hinata is there, that he hasn’t wandered off, that he’s back and he’s safe, _finally._ The weight on his shoulders begins to lift as he walks into his backyard, spotting the other adults milling about, Oikawa leaning on the back door with his lip worried between his teeth. The relief in their eyes once they spot the two walking back up is worth ten thousand fireflies to Iwaizumi, brightens up the night and makes it all worth it as he untangles himself from Hinata’s grasp.

“Shouyou!” Ayame cries, attempting to leave the side of a stranger Iwaizumi hasn’t seen before. He moves forwards before her, bumping shoulders and freezing her in place, approaching Hinata and disregarding Iwaizumi entirely as he places a hand on his shoulder and guides him quickly away. Confused, Iwaizumi looks over to Hinata, watching a tidal wave of emotions wash over his face as he and the man reach his mother, who continues apologizing profusely to the others as the man clicks his tongue.

“Thank you, thank you so much, I—” She looks back at the man, then to Hinata, then back to the others. “We need to leave. I’m so sorry, thank you all.”

“It’s no problem, Ayame,” Ritsuko says, voice lilted and confused as the man, silent and stoic, steers both her and Hinata around the corner of the house.

And as the adults form a huddle at the back door, Oikawa joins Iwaizumi at his position at the corner of the house, watching the shadows of the three play out onto the street. Silhouettes in the shadows of street lamps and porch lights not yet shut off reveal the man neither Iwaizumi nor Oikawa recognize tightening his grip on Hinata’s shoulder, Ayame two steps behind.

“Takeshi, _please—”_ she hoarsely whispers.

“You expect that because he’s back, everything is okay?” the man hisses, stopping in his tracks and jerking Hinata’s shadow with him. “You think that just because no one is hurt, it’s all fine here?”

“Takeshi—”

 _“Papa—”_ Hinata whimpers, shadow curling smaller, just as small as it was in the shrine.

“I’m not finished—”

“Takeshi, please, let’s just _go,”_ Ayame says, pleading now. The boys watch as the family of shadows freeze for one second, two, three, four, before the man releases his hold on Hinata and continues walking, into the night and away from view.

When the shadows vanish, something else is left behind between Iwaizumi and Oikawa— a memory that is hard to understand, a story told in shadow puppets that seemed all too real. Exhaustion is a heavy medicine for two eight year olds, and their parents catch up with them before their thoughts can, leading them away to Iwaizumi’s bedroom, where the spare futon is already set, whispers silenced, just for now. And for maybe the first time in Iwaizumi’s memory, the two fall dormant without any words shared between them, asleep by the time their heads hit the pillow, minds itching to wake to another day.


	2. dandelion chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy so i couldnt wait any longer and really wanted to post the 2nd chapter we had already done. hope yall enjoy it!  
> -mooks

School is a place of early mornings and with uniforms pressed and shoes scuffed, bags slung over shoulders and filled with books and pencils and all of the things a kid could need. Hinata waves goodbye to his mother at the end of the driveway as he spots Iwaizumi and Oikawa approaching, catching the kiss she blows to him before he runs to meet up with his friends. Iwaizumi lifts the corners of his mouth into a small smile as he catches up with them, Oikawa continuing to talk about whatever he was before as if nothing happened. They walk three in a line until they meet the end of the subdivision, sidewalks leading the way to the schoolyard nearby. Hinata stands behind Iwaizumi and Oikawa as they chatter, careful not to step on their heels as they go. 

They’re not the only kids they see sporting the same vests and shorts, heading in the same direction. Some wave to Oikawa and Iwaizumi from afar, Oikawa waving back as Iwaizumi sends them a nod.

“Wow, you’re popular!” Hinata says, running forwards a bit to catch up with them. “Are you friends with all of them?”

Oikawa sighs, a touch dramatically, while Iwaizumi just shakes his head. “Tooru is just good at talking to people,” he tells Hinata. 

“You’re just shy,” Oikawa says in turn, bumping shoulders with Iwaizumi. “But everyone thinks you’re cool, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Cool…” Hinata echoes, looking down at his shoes. He grins, beaming up at them both. “You guys are _both_ cool!”

Hinata watches as both Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s cheeks dust pink. Besides that, the reaction is much what he expects. Oikawa scoffs and turns away, while Iwaizumi rubs the back of his neck and smiles softly. With that, the three pass through the school’s gate and walk towards the set of stairs that leads them inside. People mill about around them, crisscrossing through the hall to make it to their respective classes.

“Do you want us to walk with you to your class?” Iwaizumi asks Hinata, slowing down his pace so that they can stand side by side. 

Oikawa stops in front of them, looking over his shoulder with a frown. “You can say no if you want to. I’m sure you don’t need our help.”

Hinata tilts his head to the side, looking between Oikawa and Iwaizumi. “Well, if you wanna, I think that’d be nice,” he says, hands pulling on the straps of his bag. “Do you?”

Iwaizumi nods, leaving the two to turn their attention to Oikawa. He’s still for a moment before he shrugs, indifferent. “I guess I’ll come along, then.”

Hinata brightens up. “Thank you!” he shouts, jumping up and down excitedly. “Where’s my classroom again?”

“Follow me,” Oikawa says, already walking. “I thought you said you knew where it was.”

“Did I?” Hinata asks, hurrying to catch up to him as Iwaizumi trails beside him. 

Oikawa shrugs, hands lifting into the air as he continues on, waving when people call his name and skipping through the crowds. It’s easy for small, slight Hinata to worm his way through, and even easier for Iwaizumi to simply ask people to move. Though the crowds of kids increased, their trio remains intact when they finally reach their destination. Hinata steps forwards to peer inside of the classroom. Small brown desks sport bright yellow chairs, with a big carpet at the front of the room and chalkboards that line the walls. Kids already sit in small clumps, chattering away, tugging on their vests and emptying their things. Hinata’s chest swells with excitement as he turns back around to face Oikawa’s otherwise neutral expression and Iwaizumi’s kinder one, eyes shining with glee.

“I’ll see you at recess, right?” Hinata asks, glancing back at his class once more.

“If we’re not busy—” Oikawa starts, but is cut off by Iwaizumi speaking at the same time.

“Sure,” he says, nodding dutifully. “Have fun, Shouyou.”

Hinata’s smile grows even wider, if possible, his heart jumping out of his chest. “I will! See you!”

With that, he watches as Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s backs fade into the chaos amongst the halls, Iwaizumi looking back to meet his gaze one more time before fading away. Class starts soon afterwards with the shrill ring of a bell. Everyone rushes past Hinata to their chairs, chatter diminished to a whisper as a young woman with dark, curly hair walks in. She smiles and sets her bag onto the desk sitting at the front of the room before calling Hinata in to introduce him to the class. Hinata stands at the front the whole time, smiling wide, meeting the curious eyes that stare up at him as he announces his name, the teacher telling him where to seat afterwards. 

After all is said and done, the morning ticks by as they run through the alphabet, breaking off into groups to draw on large pieces of paper what happened during their summer break. Hinata is paired up with a quiet boy and a girl who talks even louder than him, but neither mind him taking all of the blue crayons and half of the paper to draw. He doesn’t mention the shrine— it’s _their_ secret, after all— but he does draw Iwaizumi and Oikawa on the swings in his depiction of their street. 

Class breaks for lunch, which Hinata spends eating the lunch his mom packed him, and then recess, _finally._ Hinata worms through the crowd of people who file out into the schoolyard, using his small size to his advantage in getting out first so that he can search the yard for his friends. He wanders aimlessly for a little while, passing a grassy field, a play structure, and a sandbox before spotting Iwaizumi leaning up against the trunk of a tree, Oikawa beside him. 

“Hajime! Tooru!” Hinata calls out, waving his hand above his head as he runs over. Iwaizumi and Oikawa look up, spotting him from across the yard. Iwaizumi waves back, face schooled, while Oikawa simply crosses his arms and waits for him to come closer. 

“How was class?” Iwaizumi asks as soon as Hinata is close enough not to warrant shouting.

Hinata huffs, shrugging. “Boring, but now we’re together again! Did’ya do anything cool? We just did a whole lotta listening and then drew on some paper. I drew the swings in your backyard!”

“We did math,” Oikawa chimes in. “Multiplication.”

Hinata isn’t quite sure what that is, but acts excited anyways, aweing while Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “It’s boring, too,” Iwaizumi tells him. “Let’s go play basketball. Everyone’s probably waiting for us.”

Oikawa perks up at that, unfurling his arms as his inner competitive streak flares. “I bet I can score more baskets than you~!” he sings, skipping forwards towards the court. 

Hinata follows him, tripping over one of his laces as he copies Oikawa’s teasing expression— tongue out, hands placed on hips. Iwaizumi snorts, leaning off the tree to walk beside them. “As if,” he scoffs. “C’mon, before all the balls are gone.”

The three make their way over to the basketball court, a smooth patch of black with a few different hoops and posts where various other nets are strung up. At the edge is a wire bin, still full of jump ropes and various rackets and balls, including a basketball still inflated enough to bounce. Iwaizumi knocks it against the ground a few times before deeming it worthy, bouncing it over to Hinata to play with as he closes back up the bin. Hinata dribbles it idly as he waits for his friends, Oikawa waving to a group of other kids standing by a nearby net.

“Come _on,_ let’s go play with Ren and them,” Oikawa says over his shoulder, looking to Iwaizumi and Hinata.

Iwaizumi nods, turning to say something to Hinata only to freeze as one of the teachers supervising them walks up towards them.

“Teacher?” Iwaizumi asks, tilting his head to the side.

The teacher, a stout woman Hinata doesn’t recognize, sighs regretfully. “I’m afraid your friend is going to have to find somewhere else to play,” she says, turning to Hinata. “Only the big kids are allowed on the court. We don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

Hinata drops the ball, letting it roll away as his face falls. “Wh— but they’re my friends!” he exclaims. 

The teacher smiles regretfully. “There’s plenty of other places for you to play.” She reaches out her hand to touch Hinata’s shoulder, only for Hinata to quickly jerk away and shake his head. 

“But—” he protests, cut off by Iwaizumi coming up beside him.

“We don’t have to play here, then,” he says simply. “Tooru, are you coming with?”

Oikawa looks between Iwaizumi and Hinata, nose wrinkling. He doesn’t answer right away, stewing over his thoughts as he looks back over at the court. “I’ll see you later, then.” It’s all he says before turning on his heel and running over to the kids playing by the net across the court, not sparing a glance towards Hinata as he does so.

Hinata doesn’t have time to feel his stomach knot. Iwaizumi is already walking forwards and looking back at him expectantly, waiting for him to follow. Before the disappointment can spread, he runs forwards to meet him, ready to move to the new adventure and put the basketball court and its shiny nets behind him.

—

School is funny. Hinata sits in the lastmost row, back by the window with no one else beside him. When lunchtime rolls around, everyone breaks into clumps, circling tables, talking loudly and laughing and trading sugar candies amongst each other. Hinata tried his hand at slipping into the groups without much success. His voice carries, and so does the weight of having four people shuffle three desks down when he laughs at a joke not meant for him to hear. Mostly, he sits at his desk, close enough to a group of three girls who draw on printer paper as not to feel alone. 

He looks down at his lunchbox, drumming his fingers on the sides. His mom was in a rush to get him out of the house, despite not being late— enough of a rush that she handed him a lunch only half made. He chews his food and kicks his feet against the desk in front of him, wondering what recess has in store. Lunch gets boring when people are averse to looking him in the eye, and more than anything, Hinata wants to see Iwaizumi and Oikawa. Yesterday, Oikawa found one of his sister’s old jump ropes and promised to bring it to school today. It’ll be difficult to play in the gravel instead of the smooth pavement of the court, but Hinata isn’t worried. He watches the trees sway back and forth in the wind, watches the clouds float lazily by, watches the clock tick tortuously towards half past. 

Recess is his saving grace. He’s gained a reputation of first out and last in, of darting to the big oak tree in the centre of the playground that Oikawa, Iwaizumi and him have started using as a meeting place. It shades him from the sun and blocks him from the view of his peers, who are more than happy to pretend he doesn’t exist. Hinata doesn’t care about that right now, not when he can see Iwaizumi and Oikawa walking his way, the latter slinging not one, but _two_ pink jump ropes over his shoulder.

They play double-dutch in the shade of the big oak tree, with sunlight scattering rays of warmth through the full, fan-like leaves. Oikawa, for all of his talent and adaptability, trips over the ropes more often than not, leading him to spin while Iwaizumi and Hinata trade off jumping double time. It’s not a fact Oikawa is particularly proud of, whether because of his competitive nature and disdain of not being the best, or because Hinata picked up on it faster, no one knows. Either way, he huffs and spins and chants the rhymes anyways, laughing when the rope smacks Iwaizumi in the face. 

“Stop laughing,” Iwaizumi grumbles as he rubs his face. There’s no blood, but he sports a blooming bruise right over the bridge of his nose that looks less than pleasant. 

“Nuh-uh! You laughed at _me_ when I couldn’t jump in!” Oikawa shouts back. “Shouyou, back me up.”

Hinata hesitates, because as good natured as the teasing between them may be, it looks painful. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, dropping the rope and walking over to him, hands hovering a second before he places one on Iwaizumi’s arm.

“I’m okay,” Iwaizumi sniffs, furrowing his brow. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Oikawa scoffs. “No need to act tough, _Ha-ji-me._ We all heard you yelp,” he teases, dodging out of the way just in time to avoid the headbutt Iwaizumi had aimed for him. He cackles, spinning triumphantly, dragging the jump rope along with him. 

Before Iwaizumi and Hinata can wrestle back the rope and begin again, they hear a shout from across the schoolyard that stops their bickering.

“Tooru!” someone shouts. Hinata turns to spot a couple kids, closer to Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s age than his own. 

Oikawa drops the rope from around his shoulders. “What?” he calls back.

“Come play with us!” another one of them shouts. “We bought a volleyball and Natsuki wants you on our team!”

Oikawa instinctively steps forwards only to freeze in place, looking back at Hinata and Iwaizumi with wide eyes. Hinata tilts his head, confused as to his hesitance. Oikawa furrows his brow. He was here first— why was it so hard to say no? Yet he finds his mouth half open, formed around a response he doesn’t even understand. 

Luckily, the bell saves him from having to think on it any further. It rings shrill throughout the yard and causes the group of kids— and Hinata— to groan in discontempt. Oikawa watches as Iwaizumi ruffles Hinata’s hair while he pouts. Guilt rises deep in his stomach as Hinata’s pout turns into a blinding grin, and he’s not sure exactly where it’s sprouted from.

—

Hinata’s house is quiet in the evening until the morning, when his father leaves for work. Mornings mean tuning in to the latest episodes of whatever show is on television, means eating his favourite breakfast at the kitchen table while his mom hums a happy tune before sending him on his way to school. But until then, shadows line the house, nighttime creeping through the windows and casting slivers of moonlight across Hinata’s room.

He can’t sleep, which is often an issue. With energy levels as high as his, sleep comes only after exhaustion, leaving his mind to twist and turn and race until his body can’t stand to be awake any longer. Tonight, though, is different. Tonight, his mother forgot to tuck him in, and left him to hear her voice through the walls instead. Tonight, Hinata presses his ear to the wall to listen to his mother’s soft mumbling, his father’s deep voice piercing through the drywall like daggers, muffled voices he can’t understand. Hinata lies in wait, and when the noises stop and when his father’s voice stops shaking the walls in his mind, he finally slips back into bed and pulls the covers tight around his shoulders, wrapping himself in blankets as if they could protect him from anything in the world. He never knows what his father says to his mother, never understands the dull thud that usually starts or ends it all, doesn’t ask because his mother doesn’t tell and doesn’t act like it ever happened in the first place. 

Hinata thinks about his mother’s soft smile and hears footsteps— gentle, hesitant— padding down the hall. Slowly, he sits up and rubs his eyes, blanket falling from his shoulders to rest at his hip. In the gentle light of a room illuminated only by his nightlight and the moon, Hinata stands, reaching for his favourite stuffed bear as he pulls open his bedroom door. He follows the sound of sniffling and running water with his own socked feet, rounding the corner to the kitchen to spot his mother bent over the sink with her hands clutching onto the sides. He watches as the moon glows against her dark hair, eyes shut as water flows from the tap and drips from her chin.

“Mama?” he says quietly, earning him a wide-eyed glance his way that soon softens as his mother shuts off the faucet and smiles, radiant even in the dim lighting of their kitchen.

“Shouyou,” she coos, soft, hardly a whisper, and bends down to his height. “What’re you doing up?”

Hinata looks down at his feet sheepishly, twisting them on the linoleum floor. “Can’t sleep.”

Her smile fades, just for a moment, before returning as she stands, a hand resting on his shoulder. “Well, maybe some warm milk would help,” she tells him. “With a spoonful of honey, just like you like it.”

Hinata lights up, nodding quickly as his mother gets the milk from the fridge and he gets the honey from the pantry, her movements near silent even as she warms the milk in the microwave. The dull hum is the loudest sound of the night, louder than the _clink_ of the drawer when his mother fetches a spoon, louder than their breaths as Hinata copies her silence. When she’s finished stirring the honey into his drink, they walk hand in hand back to his room, following steps walked a hundred times before. Hinata curls up into the blankets and sips on something sweeter than the sum of its parts as his mother rubs his back, singing under her breath just loud enough for him to hear. His stuffed bear lies beside them and watches as Hinata’s eyes go heavy, as the cup is drained empty, as the curtains catch a breeze and sway softly. Hinata’s mother takes the cup from his small hands and sets it on his nightstand, kisses his forehead, and instead of moving to tuck him back in like the script would say, climbs under the covers beside him. Hinata’s heart soars as she tugs him close to her just and continues to sing, strained with sleep and something else, hands still rubbing his back.

That night, Hinata falls asleep with a smile on his lips and warmth in his belly. When he wakes, his father is gone and his mother is making eggs, and tells him to brush his teeth twice to make up for the night before. She’s got a new bruise on her arm and bags under her eyes, and Hinata has the taste of honey still under his tongue.

—

Walking home means playing hopscotch on crosswalks and sharing stories of their respective days. Hinata plays a game of show and tell, shows what he made in class, tells them about the day he’s had. Oikawa tends to not care about talking about what had happened and leaves Iwaizumi to answer the questions Hinata always asks. Today is different in the banter. Oikawa and Iwaizumi are talking nonstop— they had a field trip to a science museum in a neighbouring city, leaving Hinata alone on the playground to trail aimlessly behind his peers— about a solar system display and a gyroscope and a hundred other things they banter about. Hinata gets caught in the crosstalk, listening with wonder as Oikawa turns to walk backwards and continue describing the robots they got to build.

“We _totally_ crushed Amai’s bot,” he brags, grinning as he spins back around. Iwaizumi smiles— he’s missing his front tooth— nodding as he bumps Oikawa’s shoulder with his own. “I mean, hers was bigger, yeah, but ours was faster _and_ it didn’t stop working once!”

“S’cuz you designed it to be fast,” Iwaizumi says. 

“And because you did all the sautering,” Oikawa beams.

“What's sautering?” Hinata pipes up, trailing onto the grass in order to stand side by side the two.

Oikawa hums in disinterest, looking over his shoulder. “Hm? It’s melting wires together to make a circuit.”

“What’s a circuit?” 

At that, Oikawa sighs, Iwaizumi quickly answering for him. “It’s a path for the electricity to go and power the robot.”

“Oh! I get it!” Hinata exclaims. Iwaizumi nods and pats his shoulder as Oikawa continues talking about the robot, not pausing again to explain any other terms.

It’s unfortunate, the gap that school creates between them. More often than not, Hinata exists on an outer orbit of understanding what goes on in the six hours they spend apart, forced to live vicariously through hastily told stories and inside jokes he’ll never quite understand. School and home— a rock and a hard place. They’re both places where Hinata feels out of sorts, where there’s no spot for him to fit, like a missing piece in the puzzle of life. Their street, though, the woods and the shrine— it’s all another home to him. There’s no worries to be found and the only bruises are from falling out of a tree and into the grass. He doesn’t want to go back to class, where boring voices shout boring answers, doesn’t want to go back to recess and the eternal divide. He just wants Tooru and Hajime, wants to lie down in the grass and to play until the sun makes his freckles as dark as the soil staining his jeans.

“We should play once we get home!” Hinata exclaims, bouncing up and down, up and down. “I wanna learn how to climb a tree!”

Oikawa hesitates, lip curling. “But we have spelling homework…”

Iwaizumi stops as they wait for the light to change at the crosswalk before their subdivision. “Do you _really_ wanna do homework?” 

Oikawa sighs, and there’s hardly a moment that passes before he answers, “No.”

The light turns green, and the three keep walking. Somehow, Hinata doesn’t feel like he’s won anything at all.

—

Recess is a waiting game where Hinata is stuck sitting at the base of the big courtyard tree while Iwaizumi and Oikawa make their way out. Iwaizumi is popular with the other boys, due to natural athleticism and a knack for sports, whereas Oikawa is popular with _everybody._ Hinata finds his stomach turning green when his own teacher coos at Oikawa while he and Iwaizumi wait outside of the classroom door for Hinata. She goes as far to pinch his cheek, and if there are words to explain what Hinata feels, he hasn’t yet learned how to read them. 

And so he waits for the pair to be finished chattering away, dealing trading cards while they break off into groups and dash off into corners of the schoolyard. It’s a lazy late summer day and the clouds bring enough cover to cool Hinata’s cheeks. He hates the uniform— it's itchy and tight around the shoulders and underarms, doesn't move how he wants it to and isn’t allowed to be covered in dirt. Iwaizumi and Oikawa are taking their time coming over, but Hinata has no doubt they’ll arrive. Sometimes he waits, sometimes he doesn't. He doesn’t mind, choosing to poke at the bugs in the dirt and braid dandelions into a makeshift crown. The buttery yellow glow sticks to his fingertips and his skin, warm like the sun and reminiscent of honey dripping off the comb. He’s perfectly happy, halfway through making a second crown for Iwaizumi, up until the peace of solitude he’s forced to accept comes to a blazing halt. 

A small stone hits the back of his head, leaving him to yelp and spin around. The stone lays by his feet, no bigger than a pebble, while the perpetrators, a gang of four boys in his class, stand nearby. 

Apprehension fades as Hinata notices their toothy grins, the pebble falling from his hands. “Hey! Do you wanna make dandelion chains with me?” he asks, holding up the half finished one that lies in his lap. 

One of the boys makes a face. “Stupid,” he snarls, leaving Hinata to balk. He hears Iwaizumi say it all the time, of course, but it carries none of the softness or the warmth of his words. The pebble at Hinata’s feet begins to feel less like a pager and more like a weapon as the boys snicker and elbow each other. 

“Why you alone, huh?” one sneers, sniffling. He’s wearing his backpack and has his hands tucked into the pockets of his uniform, something Hinata's father scolded him for countless times. 

“Did Hajime and Tooru realize how annoying you are and leave you all by yourself?” another asks, leaving Hinata’s brow to furrow in confusion. 

“They’re _all_ you ever talk about,” the first groans. “It’s like they’re your only friends.”

“That’s ‘cuz they are, but only ‘cuz he’ll cry if they don’t talk to him,” another cuts in. _“Crybaby.”_

Hinata thinks about how many times the three of them have shared tears, wonders what shame is there to be held in it. His throat swells thick and the dandelion chain on his head weighs more than any crown would as he searches for the words to express the hurt and confusion mixing in his stomach. 

Hinata’s bottom lip trembles as he stands up and faces them. “Th-that’s not true!” he exclaims.

“Oh man, you made him cry!” one of them laughs, pulling his hands from his pockets. “Just like a preschooler!”

“He _looks_ like a preschooler!”

“I’m not a preschooler! I’m sti—six!” Hinata shouts. His throat feels tighter still and his little chest swells with rage at the idea that somehow he’s become inferior, that somehow the title of _less than_ had been plastered on his forehead. 

His response only drives the boys to further laughter, snorting and kicking the rocks as they walk closer. “What’s that? A wittle wisp? Can’t even tawk wight?”

The closest one to him takes a step forward and rips the dandelions from his hands, rolling his eyes at Hinata’s distress. “Those are mine! Give them back!” Hinata yells in vain, the kids already dropping them on the ground and twisting their shoes on the flowers. A tear hits Hinata’s cheek and he sniffles, desperate to hold back his frustration even as he’s shoved backwards. With a yelp, his foot catches a stone and he falls backwards, into the dirt and the roots of the dandelions he plucked. It does little to cushion his fall and little to keep him from aching as he looks up to see high-fives being shared and looks of twisted pride. Tears well about and obscure his vision as he pulls his knees to his chest, a hiccup catching in his throat.

“Get _away_ from him!” 

Hinata looks up, wiping his tears and snot on his sleeve as Iwaizumi runs over and stands protectively in front of Hinata, all but fuming from the ears. The kids crowding him falter for a moment, one crossing his arms as Iwaizumi glares at them. 

“Oh look, he even needs a _babysitter—“_

Iwaizumi’s hand makes an audible smack as he hits him on the side of the face. The others in the gaggle fall back as the hit kid staggers, rubbing his cheek as Iwaizumi very nearly towers over them. His brows stay knitted together as he glares at the group, shoulders tight as they begin to run away. 

“Go cry home to mommy!” one of them calls as they dart out of Iwaizumi’s reach. “Tell her you had to have a big kid come save you!”

Iwaizumi glares as they run off for a few moments longer before turning to Hinata and extending a hand. “Are you hurt?” he asks, small face still showing anger in his knitted brows. Hinata grasps his palm, hissing at the contact and yanking his hand back. He looks at the palm to see small stones stuck into a palm flecked with red, stomach growing queasy not from the sight of his own blood, but his own weakness. Iwaizumi reaches forwards to grab his wrist, and Hinata flinches on instinct alone before offering up his other hand. Though his face flickers with confusion, Iwaizumi stays steady, helping him up and giving him a once over before letting go. 

In that moment, Oikawa finally catches up, tiny hand wrapped around the wrist of a teacher Hinata recognizes as his and Iwaizumi’s. Her face is masking confusion with politeness as she follows along, face finally relaxing once she spots Hinata, tear tracks still fresh on his cheeks, hand dripping blood onto the stones.

“Oh, look at you, poor thing,” she says softly, kneeling down and taking Hinata’s hand into her own. The bell goes off in the distance as kids begin to filter back indoors, but she ignores it, giving his scratch a once over before sighing and standing up.

“Tooru, Hajime, can you take your friend to the nurse’s office to grab a bandaid?” she asks, hand resting on Hinata’s shoulder. He shakes it off, standing closer to Iwaizumi as Oikawa nods dutifully.

That night after school, the three crowd around in Hinata’s small upstairs bathroom— the one he and his mom share. It has a tub that always overflows tucked against the wall and a sink that always leaks in the corner next to the toilet. The mirror is cleaned spotless, and in its reflection, Hinata can see the nervous faces of both his friends. His mother unwraps the bandage and lets the cut breathe, lips pursed as she looks over Hinata for anymore damage. When she asks how he managed to get hurt, Oikawa is halfway through trying to explain before Hinata cuts him off.

“I fell over,” he says, flashing a smile. It’s the truth, and there’s no reason to get in trouble for fighting when he could easily evade it. She stares at him for a moment, wariness clear in her eyes before she bends over and ruffles his hair. 

—

Iwaizumi is in his kitchen, peeling carrots for dinner while Oikawa and Hinata play catch in the backyard. The kitchen is wide and big enough for all of them to fit, but his mother says Hinata is too small and Oikawa too spoiled to help out quite yet. It leaves Iwaizumi to stand on a step stool and hovers over the big metal sink, flicking the rough outsides of the carrot skin into the bin. Sunshine pours through the big bay window where all the potted plants sit, shining through a prism that refracts the light around the kitchen. It’s an open space that looks over a half wall into the formal dining area used when Iwaizumi’s grandparents, cousins, aunties and uncles visit. It’s there, squinting as the prism shines light into his eyes, that he learns of the buying of a family camp.

“It’s not very far,” his mother tells him as she tries to feed his baby brother another spoonful of mush. She coos and he laughs, flinging the spoon away as Iwaizumi looks up and grins. They’re close enough, the highchair pulled up to the end of the counter, so Iwaizumi is wary over flying baby food as he leans forwards in excitement.

“Is it big? Big enough for aunt Misato and Rin to come?” he asks. “And grandma and grandpa? And—”

“It’s big enough for everyone, Hajime,” she tells him, wiping the green goo from her cheek. “The whole family pitched in. And it’s not that far either.”

Iwaizumi leans back, setting the peeled carrot with the rest. “Can Tooru and Shouyou come?” he asks, picking up another. Through the window, he can see them playing— Oikawa is holding the ball above Hinata’s head where he can’t quite reach it and tossing it out across the yard. The two chase after it together, Hinata skidding across the grass to grab it first.

His mother shrugs, wiping her brow and smearing more mush on her face. “If their parents say it’s okay, then of course they can come. Your cousins might even be there.”

Iwaizumi has stopped listening, working fast to finish peeling the carrots. His mother calls for him not to cut his hands, and he doesn’t, miraculously tossing the last of the carrots into the pot before wiping his hands and jumping off of the step stool. His brother laughs and his mother spoons more of the mush into his mouth, Iwaizumi not even sparing a second glance as he dashes out through the screen door, stopping only to make sure it’s shut behind him.

“Hajime!” Hinata calls, throwing his hands into the air. He’s caught the ball, but in his enthusiasm, tosses it into the air. Oikawa jumps and catches it, slipping away from Hinata’s grabby hands.

“You finished your chores?” Oikawa asks, throwing him the ball. Iwaizumi catches it and tosses it up a few times before lobbing it back.

“Mom told me my family is buying a camp,” Iwaizumi says, cutting to the chase as Oikawa begins to spin the ball. 

Hinata walks closer, eyes brightening. “A camp?”

“Where?” Oikawa asks. He tries to spin the ball on one finger, but it slips off, leaving him to fumble for it.

“Not far,” Iwaizumi tells him. “You can both come, too. She says it’s really big.”

“I can?” Hinata nearly exclaims, practically shining.

Iwaizumi nods dutifully, crossing his arms. “As long as your parents say yes, then you can both come.”

Hinata laughs excitedly, running around in circles around Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Oikawa sets down the ball, all earlier interest with it vanished as he pesters Iwaizumi for more answers. They eventually all settle down in the grass, knees pressed together as a kingdom builds between their bodies, one crafted out of imaginary blueprints for treehouses and bullet point lists of what their rooms might be. They splay their hands in the blades of grass and make pretend waves like the ocean they’ll soon visit, tasting the idea of salt water and sand all the while the scent of supper wafts through often windows. 

Later, when Hinata goes home, he begs his mother from the moment he arrives, talking nonstop, hands moving in wild gestures as he follows her through the kitchen. She’s making a meal for his father, chopping up vegetables and sliding them into a pot as Hinata tugs on the hem of her apron, still trying to describe how _amazing_ and _cool_ it’ll be at the Iwaizumi family camp.

“And they said I can come, so I gotta go! Right?” Hinata says, eyes wide as he surveys his mother’s smile. She sets the lid on the pot and turns to face him, kneeling down to his height to run her hands through his hair.

“Shouyou… you know I have… you know your father has to agree, too,” she whispers, tucking wild orange strands of hair away from Hinata’s face.

Hinata pauses. “Can we ask him when he gets home?” he asks. “I _really_ wanna go, mama.”

Ayame holds his head to her chest. “I know you do. We can see what mood he’s in when he gets home, okay?” she says softly.

“M’kay,” Hinata mumbles against her shirt.

That night, Hinata hears the voices through the walls again, but come morning, his mother’s smile is no longer strained, the light in her eyes soft, warmth radiating from her chest as she pulls Hinata into a hug.

His father had agreed.

—

Iwaizumi’s grandparents drive them to the camp, the other car filled with the rest of his siblings and parents. They play old music through the speakers and entertain the three of them with _I spy_ and riddles not even Oikawa can answer. Hinata, the smallest of the bunch, sits on the hump of the middle seat, shoes kicked off and feet tucked under himself so that he’s tall enough for the seat belt to stretch across his chest. Iwaizumi uses the crank on the side of the door to roll down his window and sticks out his head, the wind blowing through his hair with enough force that he has to close his eyes. 

An hour’s ride feels more like a year, and by the time they hit the rough gravel road, Oikawa, Hinata, and Iwaizumi are taking turns elbowing each other playfully, yelping when the car jostles and kicking their legs in canon at every sharp turn. Oikawa falls onto Hinata, who falls in turn onto Iwaizumi, who ends up pressed against the door with his right arm flailing out of the window. When they straighten, he reaches out and grasps the branches that brush by the car, palms tearing away a few leaves that spin away with momentum and wind, already far behind them by the time he reacts to try and catch them. The forest stands tall all around them, with jagged rock croppings grown over and sheltered by layers of soft moss and wildflowers. Weaving alongside the road is a small river that rushes with enough force to drown out the drone of the wind, the current pulling the water along and shimmering in shades of silver and gold as the sun catches each ripple and wave. 

The car slows to maneuver down one last narrow, twisting road, the bumps harder and the anticipation of all three in the backseat nearing electric. When the foliage clears, they catch sight of a cottage small, built with a wrap around porch and old cedar beams. The ignition sputters to a stop and all of the doors fly open, Hinata rushing out only footsteps behind Iwaizumi. His grandparents chuckle as they gather up the bags from the trunk, but the car and the bags are the last thing on any of the three’s minds. Oikawa takes to running up the stairs to the porch, his footsteps thumping as he runs the entire loop around the house in the time it takes for Hinata to finally meet up with him. He’s buzzing, eyes bright and hair a mess of waves and curls. When Hinata rips his eyes away to admire the little animal carving on one of the posts, he’s almost knocked over by the force in which Oikawa uses to yank open the sliding door.

“Hurry _up,_ Hajime!” Oikawa shouts, looking back over his shoulder to where Iwaizumi is, bobbing up and down while waiting for his grandparents. He’s given a wave of permission, and in an instant, he’s at their sides, barreling past to step inside.

“Shoes off, boys!” his mother calls, and the three make a hasty effort to kick off their sneakers, ultimately tossing them in a pile as they search the cottage itself. It’s old in its design and its furnishings, and both of Iwaizumi’s parents seem busy dusting and fixing blinds while children run around their legs. Hinata smiles, enjoying how the mats absorb his heavy footfalls, and follows Iwaizumi around a corner through the hall. They stick their heads inside every door, peering around at the rooms empty save the odd wooden table or desk. At the end of the hall, down three tiny steps, is a large bathroom, with wide blue tiles that coat the entire room. They’ve shifted in their years, not quite straight, but Hinata grins and skids across the ground all the same, tripping over the drain in the centre room and giggling when Oikawa starts to laugh. 

“Boys, let’s start setting up your room, okay?” Iwaizumi’s mother shouts from down the hall. Hinata pokes his head out to see her standing with two baskets stacked on her hips, a soft smile creasing her cheeks. 

Iwaizumi huffs and mutters before heading towards his mother with Oikawa and Hinata in tow. She ruffles his hair for all of his attitude when he gets close enough, then slides open a door and drops the baskets on the ground. She helps them each set up the futons one by one, straightening the sheets when Oikawa tugs them loose and holding one end straight so Hinata can fix the other. At the end of it, the beds lay side by side by side, sunlight pouring in from the big bay window to illuminate the soft cream shades of the covers. Iwaizumi’s mother inspects their work before leaning back and wiping her hands on her apron, sighing at the sight of the three of them containing their excitement. 

“Alright, go on and explore what's outside,” she says, shooing them out with her hands. “Stay where you can see us!”

Oikawa is the first out of the door, slipping by without waiting, somehow knowing that Iwaizumi and Hinata will be on his heels. They dodge the adults as they bring in couches and tables, throwing open the back door and jumping outside. It’s quieter here, the gentle whisper of wind through the trees much softer than the organized chaos inside. Heeding no rules, the three take off to the trees, inspecting all of the little nicks, burls and mosses that grow from the trunks. Hinata runs his fingers up and down the ridges, turns his head to see Iwaizumi scaling a skinner tree with relative ease. His eyes light up in excitement before going over to the tree next to him, rolling up his sleeves with his tongue poking out in thought as he attempts to climb as well.

“Hey!” Oikawa exclaims, turning around to see Iwaizumi sitting on a branch and Hinata on his way up. “You didn’t tell me we were climbing!”

He pouts for half a minute while Iwaizumi grins, shrugging his shoulders. “'Cuz you were distracted!” he calls back down to him. Iwaizumi looks over to where Hinata continues climbing, using each new branch as a foothold to get higher. “Shouyou, be careful!”

“I am!” Hinata yells, giddy as he climbs up to another branch. It’s the highest he’s ever been able to climb before, a well of pride rising up in his chest. He beams up at Iwaizumi, standing on the branch, before looking back down. He catches eyes with Oikawa, still pouting and waiting for them to come back down, branch creaking slightly under his weight, before something happens.

A strong breeze pushes past them, and suddenly, he’s falling. The pit of his stomach rises up in his throat as he loses his footing, a loud yelp scratching his throat hoarse as he tumbles down. His hands grasp wildly for purchase on the branches, but find nothing but scrapes on the rough bark. He inhales sharply, bracing himself for the inevitable impact.

“Shouyou!” Iwaizumi shouts, panic rushing through his small body as he watches Hinata fall from the branch. “Tooru, catch—”

And before Hinata can hit the ground, he lands into Oikawa’s arms— or rather, lands _onto_ him. They both topple onto the ground, landing on a soft cushion of pine needles and leaves, elbows dug into each other's sides and bony limbs locked together.

Hinata blinks open his eyes as Oikawa groans beneath him, both of their bodies aching from the fall. Iwaizumi immediately climbs back down and runs over to them both, eyes wide and brows furrowed with worry and concern. Hinata looks down at his hands, at the small blisters forming where his grip lost. Oikawa, however, sports scratches on his elbows, torn and red after knocking into hidden rocks after catching Hinata. Hinata blanches at the sight of blood, jumping off of Oikawa as tears well up in his eyes. Apologies leave him in tumbles of words as tears run down his cheeks.

Iwaizumi kneels down beside them both. “You okay?” he asks.

“M’fine,” Oikawa grits out as he sits up.

“T-Tooru’s h-hu-rt,” Hinata practically sobs.

“A-am not!” Oikawa stammers, tilting his chin up indignance. “This is nothing. It’s just a scratch.”

Hinata sniffles as he desperately tries to wipe his tears away. “B-but, you’re b-b-bleeding,” he whimpers.

“You need a bandaid either way,” Iwaizumi huffs, grabbing Oikawa’s arm so that he can get a better look at his elbow. He inspects it for a few moments before standing up. “I’ll grab one, then we can keep exploring.”

“Sure,” Oikawa mumbles as Iwaizumi runs back to the cottage. Hinata stays kneeled next to Oikawa, hands pressed against his eyes as sobs wrack through his body. It’s the only sound in the space between them besides the rustling of leaves as another breeze passes around them. The wounds sting, a white hot pain that pulses on Oikawa’s arms, but more so does watching Hinata cry.

It’s not the first time Oikawa has seen him cry, and he’s sure it won’t be the last. Usually, Iwaizumi is the one to comfort him, leaving Oikawa to watch as Hinata’s tears slowly fade back into his usual bright smile. It always leaves a bad feeling in his mouth and a twist in his stomach that he can’t explain. And the same is true now as he watches Hinata cry with Iwaizumi gone and unable to console him. It hurts, and really, Oikawa figures, _he_ should be the one crying. _He_ was the one who was hurt, after all. But the fact of the matter is that he’s not, and Hinata is crying all the tears for him.

Oikawa thinks back to when Iwaizumi would calm Hinata down, _how_ he would calm him down. His lips twist in a feeling he can’t comprehend at the memory before he slowly lifts up an arm, placing his palm on Hinata’s head. Hinata lowers the hands obscuring his face, still trembling, still hiccupping, but meeting Oikawa’s eyes with guilt combined with confusion. _Makes sense,_ Oikawa figures, since he’s never comforted Hinata before.

“I’ll be fine,” Oikawa says slowly. “Don’t cry.”

Hinata’s eyes widen as he sniffles, tears still falling, but at least he isn’t sobbing anymore. A moment of silence passes between them, only broken by the sounds of the forest and Hinata’s receding tears.

“Is— does it hurt?” Hinata asks, voice small and weak and wobbly. Oikawa frowns, because it _does_ hurt, but he knows if he tells Hinata that, he’ll start crying again.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Oikawa lies instead, sighing a tad bit dramatically. Hinata eyes him skeptically, and Oikawa’s frown deepens. “What, you don’t believe me?”

Hinata’s eyes look down at the bleeding scratch, bottom lip trembling before he pointedly stares at the ground. “It— it looks like… it hurts,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry, Tooru.”

Oikawa pats Hinata’s head again, ruffling his hair a bit, just like Iwaizumi does. And just like Iwaizumi, he tells him it’s okay. Hinata nods, and Oikawa only hopes that this time, he believes him.

It doesn’t take long for Iwaizumi to return with a couple of large bandaids. Oikawa inhales sharply as he sticks them on, tongue poking out in concentration. Once he’s done, he turns to Hinata and ruffles his hair, pulling a smile to his lips. Oikawa wants to comment on how Hinata didn’t smile for him when _he_ ruffled his hair, but keeps his mouth shut and locked tight. Oikawa doesn’t want to think about where the thought came from, nor the way his stomach twists again.

“Let’s go bug hunting instead,” Iwaizumi suggests. Hinata beams, wiping the last of his tears away as he jumps up to a stand, Iwaizumi helping Oikawa onto his feet. “I didn’t bring any nets, so we won’t be able to catch big bugs.” He meets Oikawa’s gaze. “You in?”

Oikawa looks from Iwaizumi to Hinata, taking in both of their excited expressions with a hesitant one before he sighs. “Sure, why not.”

Hinata cheers, throwing up his arms and bouncing in place. The remnants of the fall are replaced with something sweeter, and Oikawa can’t help the small tug of his lips. He pushes down everything, and follows them.

As the hours pass, the forest grows darker, until there’s barely enough sunlight for them to make their way back. Iwaizumi is the first to hear their parents calling for them, urging them to go back so that they don’t get into trouble. Hinata whines in protest for a minute, but is placated by a pat on the head by Iwaizumi and the promise of smores. At the mention of treats, Hinata’s eyes light up and he leads the way back to the cabin. Their parents welcome them with open arms and the delicious smell of dinner.

After dinner, with their stomachs pleasantly full, Iwaizumi’s mom lights the fireplace in the living room for them all to gather around. Hinata excitedly watches as the fire crackles and pops in place, scooching close so he can feel the warmth. Iwaizumi plops down next to him, Oikawa at his other side. Hinata looks between the both of them, stomach fluttery and chest light, the happiest he’s felt in what feels like longer than he can count. For once, it’s silent between the three of them, all content to watch the fire, pressed close to one another.

Once more, Hinata glances at Iwaizumi, then at Oikawa. _Ah,_ he thinks, a smile stretching wide across his cheeks. _I wish this would last forever._ Feeling warm and _safe,_ a feeling so rare for Hinata, he feels his eyes begin to close as his mind becomes numb with drowsiness.

Iwaizumi jolts when he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder, looking over to see Hinata drifting off to sleep. Oikawa watches with wide eyes as he smiles, soft, fond, and makes no move to wake Hinata or shake him off. Instead, Iwaizumi lets Hinata rest his head on his shoulder, eyes training back onto the fireplace.

Oikawa’s stomach twists at the sight in the same unpleasant way. The emotion that swirls and simmers in his brain is one he’s come to hate. It makes him feel nauseous, chest and throat tight in a way he doesn’t understand. He suppresses it, pushes it back down and locks it up, gazing back at the fire before he grows too sick at the sight of Iwaizumi and Hinata cuddled up together.

None of them remember being carried to bed, tucked in and dreaming before their heads hit the pillow. Come morning, Hinata has the small memory of his head against Iwaizumi’s shoulder. The fuzzy feeling returns, and he hops out of bed to start his day.

—

The Iwaizumi’s are a big family to begin with. Iwaizumi’s grandparents take to watching the youngest of the bunch, the baby and toddlers needing a constant watchful eye. There are voices all around, shouting in ways Hinata isn’t used to. There’s a playfulness to the banter, laughter that follows his parent’s jests that leaves the whole room light. Hinata could never be shy here— not when Haruko continues to feed him as if he’s never eaten before, not when she fusses over him like her own. There’s no punishment for second helpings, no worry when he eats his fill, only the thought of when next he’ll be outside, next to his friends, with the world at his fingertips. 

One evening, Haruko sits him down on the counter, adamant to check over his scrape from falling down the tree. She peels off the bandage with the expertise that only a parent could have, careful not to pull at the skin or the scab underneath. Hinata still winces when it comes off, but is easily placated when she hands him another cookie, distracting him as she examines his knee. More than anything, Hinata just wants to get back outside, to where Oikawa and Iwaizumi have set up a tiny soccer net to shoot in. He does his very best to sit still, watching with intense focus as Haruko puts a new bandaid on his knee. 

She doesn’t pull away, or move her hands like Hinata expects. Instead, she carefully thumbs over a large, yellowing bruise that rests on the outside of his thigh, gaze travelling from his leg to his arms. Hinata wiggles in place, unaware of how Haruko’s face drops, mouth falling agape as she takes in the scars on his upper arms, hands, knees— a little too many, a little too large for a boy his age. Hinata kicks his feet against the counter as she swallows, before surprising Hinata with a bear hug tight enough he squeaks. 

“Oh, Shouyou,” she says, voice cracking before becoming light once more. She pulls away, smiling. “You need to be more careful, okay? Tell me if you get hurt again.”

Hinata nods, chest warm and fuzzy from affection, only half listening to what Haruko says. She ruffles his hair anyways, standing back to let him hop off the counter and race back outdoors, where Oikawa and Iwaizumi and the rest of the world awaits. Oikawa rolls his eyes at the changed bandage and Iwaizumi doesn’t even bother to react, kicking the ball to Hinata to start the game as if he had never left. With the smell of dinner wafting through open paper doors and the gentle sounds of water rushing by in a stream, there’s nothing else important enough to drag Hinata away from a place as close to paradise as he’s ever seen. He chases the ball and bumps shoulders with Oikawa and giggles when they both go crashing down, rolling around in the weeds as they go. There’s not a single part of him that thinks about leaving, that remembers he’s going back. 

—

It’s hard to go back to the monotonous routine of school and society. Hinata’s comforted by the sight of his mother, waiting with open arms and a smile so wide it must hurt. Still, as he helps dry dishes with less laughter and sits at a dinner table too empty, too quiet, he becomes aware of just how much he liked the camp. Whatever longing has nestled inside of his chest follows him to school, pulls him away from his classes, and nestles in the back of his mind at recess. Here, the world exists to pull Hinata away from what he wants most. There’s classmates: his own, with their sharp words and sideways glances, and Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s, who seem to exist only to isolate Hinata from the pair. Still, he’s never spent a recess alone since being pushed to the ground— Iwaizumi had made sure of that. 

Slowly, he grows used to it once more, but his muscles don’t easily forget the freedom they had in the forest. He spends too many nights staring at his own ceiling, crawling towards the window to stare at a sky clouded over, no stars to be seen. How could he have expected for a place to leave him restless? How can he _not_ want to go back? 

The time spent in classrooms, with boredom drudging his skull, isolated from his peers, is worth it when Iwaizumi and Oikawa wait for him at the other side. They’re there with wide grins no matter how restless he becomes, and though afternoons and weekends only offer a brief reprise from the brain frying boredom, Hinata cherishes them. He cherishes them and counts the days until they go back down that road, back to that home where nothing else can ever touch them. 


	3. winter's snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is the last chapt we have stockpiled. the next chapt will be coming out when its done, but that might not be for a long time. thank you all SO much for the positive feedback, its really made us even more passionate about this au! this is probably my favorite chapter so far, so i hope you guys enjoy it!  
> -mooks
> 
> \--
> 
> hey guys!!! you asked, so here it is!!! hope you like it and thank you so much for the response so far!  
> -kj

When the first snowfall of the year arrives, it comes overnight, dusting the roads in thick blankets of white. It’s the best surprise Hinata could wake up to, and he nearly wakes his father in his excitement. His mother is quick to usher him out of their bedroom and into the kitchen, shushing Hinata and pulling him away from the windows long enough to brush his teeth. He watches the snow drift down from the sky in wonder while he eats his breakfast, his mother fiddling with the radio all the while. 

“Well, you’re in luck,” Ayame says, taking away Hinata’s finished bowl. “School’s been cancelled for the day— the roads are covered in snow and none of your teachers can drive in.”

Hinata jumps out of his chair, following her as she walks back to the sink. “Really? So I can go and see Tooru and Hajime and make snow angels and—“

“We should let them get ready first, shouldn’t we?” Ayame replies. She’s never noisy when she does the dishes, the only sounds being the soft lapping of water and the occasional _clink_ of plates against each other. 

Hinata pouts, crossing his arms. “But they’d be up if they thought school was happening!” he protests loudly, turning to look back out the window. 

His mother shushes him, setting the dishes down to dry. “Shouyou, it’s early. Be quiet while your father sleeps.”

Hinata huffs, quieting himself as footsteps thud down the hall. “Too late,” his father mutters, walking into the kitchen already dressed. “Keep him quiet next time, would you?”

Silence follows him, plaguing their small kitchen in tension as he pours himself a thermos of coffee. Blind to it all, Hinata points enthusiastically to the window and the piling snow on the sill. “Papa, it’s snowing!”

He grunts in response. “I wish it wouldn’t.”

“School is cancelled today, so I won’t be able to run errands until this evening,” Ayame tells him. Her voice is quiet, calm, subdued as if not to take up any more space than necessary. 

His father clicks his tongue, looking over to her with a pointed glare. “I don’t _care—_ take him along, drop him off with the neighbours, do it while I’m asleep— just get it done.”

Hinata trots up to him, tugging on the leg of his slacks. “Papa, is work cancelled too? Do you have to—“

“Not _now,_ Shouyou,” he snaps, yanking away Hinata’s hand. His father turns his attention back to Ayame. “I’m leaving now.”

“Be safe on the roads,” Ayame mumbles in response, pulling Hinata to her side as he pulls on his shoes. There is no response besides the slamming of the front door and the rumble of the car pulling away. 

“Mama?” Hinata asks, turning to look up at her. “Can we please go outside and make snow angels?”

Ayame falters, mouth falling open as her eyes dart to the door. She inhales deeply, and rubs the back of Hinata’s head. “How about we make snow angels, and then see what Tooru and Hajime are up to?”

Hinata jumps, throwing his arms around his mother’s legs. He squeals with glee and runs off, throwing open the hall closet to find his favorite coat and snow boots. His mother trails behind, scarf, hat, and mittens in tow. She attempts to hold wrangle him as she puts them on him, making sure he’d bundled up and ready for the cold outside. Hinata fusses as she does, unable to keep still due to the sheer excitement of going outside and playing in the snow. It takes all too long to wrestle him into his snow gear, and the wait for his mother to get herself bundled is near unbearable. 

When she finally pulls open the door, it's to see a world dusted with white. There's tire tracks across their driveway where Hinata’s father had left, but the lawn is otherwise undisturbed. The air is cool, tickling Hinata’s exposed nose with a chill that has his cheeks turning rosey. With a burst of laughter, he falls backwards into the snow. There isn't enough to greatly cushion his fall, and the air whooshes out of his lungs as flakes drift down to rest on his lashes. Ayame giggles quietly behind her hand, and Hinata grins, spreading his arms and legs to begin making snow angels just as he was taught. 

“Join me!” Hinata shouts, pushing himself up. His hat falls off of his head, and he rushes to put it back on, sprinkling his hair with snow in the process. His mother hesitates before crouching beside him, rolling a handful of snow between her palms. 

They play like that until the untouched slate of their lawn becomes littered with tiny footprints and snow angels. Hinata’s mits grow slightly damp, and himself slightly bored, tugging at his mother’s coat hem in effort to pull her along. It’s then that Ayame concedes, smile not bringing the warmth Hinata expects as she leads him across the street. He’s easily distracted by the prospect of seeing his friends, and that alone keeps him from wondering as to why his mother has to leave so early in the morning. They stop at the Oikawa’s, where they’re greeted by Oikawa’s elder sister and mother, who stop to talk with Ayame as Hinata is ushered in. Ayame begins to unravel Hinata’s many layers as she speaks to them, not meeting anyone’s eyes. 

“I'm sorry for such late notice, it's just that Takeshi— you know, he wants things done, and I can’t bring Shouyou on these errands.” She pauses, pinching Hinata’s cheek much to his chagrin. “You can’t seem to keep from wandering off when we go out, huh? No way I’m letting you get bored or lost today.”

Her eyes are tired, but she kisses his nose and stands up, speaking again with Ritsuko. Hinata’s attention quickly shifts to the living room, where the muffled sounds of a television catch his ears. He scampers past his mother, following the sounds of laughter and music to where Oikawa and Iwaizumi sit, facing the television where _Pokémon_ airs. Oikawa is first to turn, confusion apparent on his face as he cocks his head. Hinata crawls closer without care, scooching up beside them.

“My mom dropped me off here because she said she has stuff to do and I _hate_ doing her stuff,” Hinata tells him, wrapping his arms around his knees. Iwaizumi looks away from the television, smiling as Hinata proudly turns his nose into the air. “We don’t even have school today!”

“I know,” Iwaizumi says with a huff. “My brothers and my sisters are so annoying. They’re all at home too.”

“That’s why you’re here!” Oikawa exclaims, throwing his arms around Iwaizumi’s shoulders. He’s quickly shoved off, and Oikawa pouts, rolling his eyes. “Yuuko says she has to do homework and doesn’t want us bothering her, so we’re only allowed inside until lunchtime.”

“Yuuko?” Hinata asks, furrowing his brow.

“My sister. _Duh,"_ Oikawa replies.

Hinata lights up. “I knew that!” he lies, mostly because he had seen Yuuko in the foyer. Oikawa doesn’t respond, turning back to the television, and it isn’t long before Hinata is enraptured by its colours too.

It’s unbelievable how quickly time passes with the distraction of morning cartoons. Soon, all three of them are being shooed out of the house, with their hats and scarves tied tightly to protect them from the cold. The sky is brighter now, though snow still falls in lazy drifts that add to the carpet on the ground. Iwaizumi is first to dash out, leading the way down the deserted street and towards the shrine hidden in the forest behind. Hinata laughs as he runs after him, Oikawa taking up the rear of the impromptu race. Of course, the elder two pull ahead, but Hinata does his best to trail mere footsteps behind, jumping over roots and avoiding puddles now turned into patches of slick ice. Their shouts and laughter echoes through the quiet forest, mingling with the crunch of snow underfoot and birds chipping overhead. 

The shrine awaits them, relatively sheltered by the trees but still sporting a fresh coat of snow on its roof. Hinata rushes past his friends to duck underneath, only to freeze when something hits his shoulder. Oikawa and Iwaizumi both point to each other when he turns, as if the blame can be shifted when only Oikawa has mittens heavy with snow. Hinata’s shock wears off within seconds, and a grin of mischief replaces it. Without a second of hesitation, he scoops of the remnants of the snowball that hit him and hurls it towards the two. It misses just barely, flying between their heads so close that Oikawa shrieks, throwing his arms into the air as he dashes behind a tree. 

One wayward snowball starts an all out war, with shelter being claimed wherever it can be found— in the shrine, behind trees, underneath canopies of branches heavy with snow. Hinata is fast, but Oikawa has impeccable aim and Iwaizumi throws _hard,_ evening the field they all play on. So they ring in winter with chilly noses and frozen hands, snow slopping down their coats to ice their bare backs. It’s a cacophony of screams of fun and cries of defeat, the flutter of birds flying off as they’re scared from their perch by it all. At the end of it all, they collapse into the snow, laughing and heavy and numb from the cold, wanting for nothing more than hot chocolate and for the happiness to never melt away. 

—

The holidays approach quicker than anyone could’ve expected with winter in full swing, days growing shorter and lights twinkling to brighten the cold evenings. For Hinata, the days move past at a sluggish pace as he counts the minutes until winter break. Classes become harder than usual, spent gazing out windows at the snow covered courtyards instead of trying to follow his teacher’s ramblings. He’s not the only one excited— at recess, Oikawa prattles on about gift exchanges and new years eve, about big gatherings and stomachs full of food. 

Hinata listens, somewhat in awe. He can’t remember ever having a holiday sound exciting, not in the way Oikawa describes. His eyes burn with enthusiasm usually saved for new episodes of his favourite show or games won, smile infectious as he describes pockets heavy with change and shrine visits on crisp evenings. Iwaizumi seems present in nearly all of his stories, and it wouldn’t surprise Hinata if their celebrations have somehow melded together through the very existence of their friendship. 

It spurs on Hinata’s desperation for the holidays to come, so much so that he nearly misses his teacher’s announcement one morning before class begins. 

“Remember, on the last day before the break, we have a gift exchange! You should start thinking about what your buddy might want,” she tells them, scribbling a note on the chalkboard. 

Hinata perks up, whipping his head back to stare at his teacher. It’s the first time he’s heard of such a thing, but that’s often the case. He’s missed announcements for special themed days, reminders about class outings, and many things of the like. It wouldn't be the first time he forgot something because he was too busy in his own head. Whoever his buddy is, he must’ve forgotten in one of his daydreaming sessions. 

Hinata frowns, putting his cheek against the desk. Whatever he ends up gifting needs to work for _anybody._ He doesn’t want to be scolded for forgetting his gift buddy. 

At home, his mother hums, mulling over his dilemma as she cooks over the stove. “A gift that would work for anyone? Are you supposed to buy it?” she asks, tossing salt into a pot. 

Hinata shrugs, sitting down on the kitchen floor. He’s not supposed to, but Ayame doesn’t mention it. “I don’t know. I don’t have any way to buy stuff, I think. Do you know how to buy stuff?”

His mother chuckles, shaking her head. “Maybe you could make them something— like a craft. You make them for me.”

Hinata’s eyes widen, gasping in amazement. “I can make them a big— a gingerbread house outta popsicle sticks!” he exclaims, dashing around her legs. “Do we have popsicle sticks?”

Ayame pauses, thinking for a moment. “You’d have to check the craft box. I don’t know how many you’d need,” she tells him. To Hinata, it sounds like a yes. He bounces in place, ready to wait for his mom to help him get it down from the shelf. “Why don’t you go find Tooru and Hajime and see if they want to help later tonight?” 

“Can they come over?” Hinata asks, excitement buzzing through him. It isn’t often that he’s allowed to have friends over, and the prospect is a novelty that outweighs the idea of arts and crafts.

“Of course they can. Your dad should be coming home later tonight, so they may even be able to stay for dinner,” she says, a soft smile on her face as she pats down Hinata’s hair. “Go on and invite them over. When you get back, I'll give you a hand, okay?”

Hinata barely finishes listening before he dashes to the front door, running to find his boots. His mother calls after him, reminding him to find his scarf and mitts before heading out, and within seconds, Hinata is outside, running across the street. As per expected, Iwaizumi and Oikawa are together, kicking a soccer ball around between their front lawns. Iwaizumi kicks the ball past Oikawa, who turns towards Hinata as he approaches.

“I’m doing arts and crafts! For the gift exchange! Wanna come to my house and join me?” he shouts, slowing down to a slow jog as he reaches them.

“Your house? We _never_ go to your house,” Oikawa says in confusion. 

“Yeah! Mama said you could come over!” Hinata tells them, skittering to a stop. “I’m gonna make a gingerbread house outta popsicle sticks and it’s gonna be awesome!”

Shrugging, Iwaizumi kicks the ball closer towards his house, away from the street. “Sounds fun,” he days, walking towards Hinata. Behind him, Oikawa sighs, rolling his eyes. 

“I _guess_ I’ll come along,” Oikawa resigns, as if he was planning on saying no. “We need to work on ours, too, anyway.” Hinata beams in delight, marching off in the direction of his own home with his best friends behind. 

By the time they arrive, Ayame has already laid out the craft materials for them to use, with books of construction paper, PVA glue, and glitter galore. Hinata sits on his knees, reaching for the entire pack of popsicle sticks. With them all dumped out in front of him, he begins to assemble a makeshift home, Iwaizumi leaning over to hold the corners as the glue dries. Oikawa works on his own project, cutting a snowflake out of simple white paper. The shapes unfold into magnificent mirror images, patterns that mesmerize Hinata in the simplest of ways. Their laughter floats through the halls of Hinata’s modest home, punctured by the _snip_ of scissors or the shake of glitter onto the page. 

With glue coated fingers and sequins stuck to his clothes, Hinata sits back and admires their creations. His popsicle stick cabin leans ever so slightly under the weight of it’s “snow” covered roof, shredded cotton swabs littering the page it rests on. Oikawa rounds the table to stand at his side, peering over his shoulder with surprise and begrudging acceptance. 

“Boys!” Ayame calls, walking into the room with her hands on her hips. Upon spotting their crafts, she drops them, smiling brightly. “Oh, you all did so well! Why don’t you all clean up and we can have some dinner? Tooru, Hajime, I called your parents to let them know you’re eating here, so no worries.”

A chorus of thanks precedes a hasty clean up process, materials flung back into the cardboard box that houses them. Iwaizumi helps carry Hinata’s house to the window sill, where it can dry undisturbed, while Oikawa sneakily pins a snowflake to the fridge. Ayame carries the box back to its home on the shelf, setting out extra place mats for Oikawa and Iwaizumi. 

Dinner is served in what seems like a matter of minutes despite taking another half an hour to cook. The three kids chatter as they eat, picking out and trading the vegetables that each other can’t stand. Oikawa takes the bitter greens from Hinata, and Iwaizumi collects the mushrooms from them both, and all together they finish their plates with the help of each other. Hinata can hardly keep himself from smiling the entire evening, laughing even after he’s eaten his full, playing hand games and squealing whether he wins or loses. Ayame watches them with fondness, scooping up their dishes to begin washing. The radio is clicked on, and the chatter continues, clock ticking away without anyone paying any mind. 

The noise of the door opening is inaudible to everyone but Ayame, who drops the dish she was washing back into the water-filled sink. Hinata looks up at the sudden sound, stomach dropping as his father arrives home. 

Ayame begins to stammer, wiping her hands on her jeans. “T-Takeshi! I thought you wouldn’t be back until—” 

Hinata’s father pushes past, eyeing up the children sitting at the table. “Why are you taking care of someone else’s kids?” he scoffs. “I assumed _we_ could talk tonight, but if you’re playing babysitter, then—”

“Takeshi, _please,_ not in front of the kids— boys, why don’t you go outside?” she says, voice wavering as she smiles. 

Iwaizumi grabs Hinata and Oikawa by their wrists, tugging them towards the front door where their outdoor jackets hang. In the background, the muffled, stressed voices of Hinata’s parents makes Hinata tense up, eyes beginning to water. Oikawa keeps trying to poke his head around to get a view into the kitchen, Iwaizumi smacking the back of his head to get him to cut it out. 

“Do you guys have to leave now?” Hinata’s small voice echoes in between the three of them.

“It’s pretty late,” Iwaizumi says. “We should get going, but…”

Hinata glances back at the kitchen before looking between the two of them. “Can I go with?” he asks. “Please?”

“Won’t your mom or dad get upset if you leave without telling?” Oikawa says.

Hinata’s lips quiver, hands bunching up the hem of his shirt. “Papa’s always upset,” he mumbles, looking down at the floor dejectedly. A particularly loud _thud_ from the kitchen makes Hinata jump, scooching closer to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi immediately puts a hand in Hinata’s shoulder, feeling it tremble. “Please can I come with? _Please?”_

“We can come play tomorrow,” Iwaizumi says. Hinata’s lower lip quivers, so close to tears, and it’s all Iwaizumi can do to pull him into a hug.

“Promise?” Hinata asks in a whimper. 

“Cross my heart,” Iwaizumi promises. He looks over to Oikawa, gesturing with his head to join in.

Oikawa, seeing Hinata’s watering eyes, lets out a sigh of defeat and gives in. “Pinky promise,” he says, wrapping one of his pinkies around Hinata’s and giving it a light shake at the same time Iwaizumi pulls away from Hinata. Hinata sniffles, wiping the beginnings of tears away as he nods.

The look on Hinata’s face as they leave forces guilt into the pit of Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s gut. Still, the sky grows dark, and this is _Hinata’s_ home, not theirs. With a half-hearted wave and a lingering hug, they slip out the front door, leaving Hinata in a house too large for himself alone, and too small to escape.

He doesn’t move from the foyer, sitting by his shoes as his parents’ voices murmur through the walls. He doesn’t know how long it takes for the noises to simmer down, waiting for his mother to come get him and put him to bed. Her eyes are puffy and red, but the smile she gives Hinata as she tucks him in and kisses his forehead goodnight still gives him a sense of warmth in the chill of a cold and lonely winter night.

—

“It’s so cold!” Oikawa whines, arms wrapped tightly around himself. The walk to school has become one with the space around them filled with his constant complaints of how cold the winter morning air is. “I hate winter! Bring back the sun!”

“The sun is still out, idiot,” Iwaizumi grumbles, nose shoved into the oversized scarf his mom had wrapped cozy around his neck.

“If the sun is out then why is it cold?” Hinata asks. He’s the only one seemingly unaffected by the morning chill, but nose and cheeks a matching rosy red.

“It’s _cloudy!”_ Oikawa whines, furiously rubbing his hands up and down his padded arms. “It’s _not_ out so it’s _cold!”_

“That’s not how it works,” Iwaizumi huffs.

Oikawa sticks his tongue out at Iwaizumi. “Well if _you’re_ so smart then _tell us_ , Ha-ji- _me-!”_ The last syllable turns into a shriek as Iwaizumi picks some snow off the ground and attempts to shove it down the back of Oikawa’s jacket. “Stop! It’s cold! Cut it out!”

“You asked for it, idiot!” Iwaizumi yells back, holding onto Oikawa’s jacket. Hinata laughs at their antics, clapping together his mitten clad hands.

Oikawa shakes off Iwaizumi, running ahead a few steps and trying to shake the snow out of his jacket. “You _animal,_ Hajime!” he yelps. He shoots Hinata, who is still laughing at him, an unimpressed glare. In a moment of defiance, he reaches down, scooping up a handful of snow to hurriedly fling Hinata’s way. It lands square in his chest, protected from the cold by layers of jackets. Hinata lets out a light _oof,_ his bag jostling as he takes a step back.

“Careful, idiot, Shouyou has all our gift exchange stuff!” Iwaizumi scolds, keeping a hand on Hinata’s shoulder. Oikawa shrugs before sticking his tongue out at them.

“Well, if he’s the only one off limits…” he says, smirking fiendishly. Iwaizumi scowls, breaking away from Hinata as Oikawa flings a second snowball his way. It hits Iwaizumi square in the face, Oikawa a split second away from regret as Iwaizumi retaliates by scooping up a snowball and throwing it right back at him. Hinata laughs, cheering them on and keeping a protective hold over their handmade gifts, making sure no stray snowballs hit his bag.

Hinata glances over at their school building, rocking back and forth on his shoes. “Tooru! Hajime! Won’t school start—” The sound of the school bell cuts him off, making Oikawa and Iwaizumi freeze and cut out their play fighting. They all quickly grab their stuff and make a run for the building, Oikawa yelling about being late the whole way. As soon as they make it inside, it’s a rush to get Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s gifts out of Hinata’s bag.

“See you at recess!” Hinata calls out as the two run off to their classrooms.

“By the tree!” Iwaizumi calls back, Oikawa sending him a wave with his free hand.

Hinata waits until they round the corner and disappear from sight to make his way to his own class, pulling off his winter clothes as he does so. He stops by his locker to grab his indoor shoes, and without undoing the laces, shoves his feet in, squishing the heels like he knows his mother hates. Gingerly, he reaches into his bag, removing the popsicle stick house from its confines. It’s chimney smoke has been squished, but a few moments of attention fix it in no time. With not a second to lose, Hinata scurries into the classroom, where the scene of the gift exchange awaits. 

Everyone has already taken their seats, some with wrapped boxes and others with shining, glittering bags, others still hiding their gifts in their laps. Hinata holds his in his lap as he slips into his spot, the teacher offering him a bright smile as he takes his place, checking his name on the attendance. 

“I think that’s everyone,” she calls out, taking a stand. “My, it looks like everyone brought such wonderful gifts!”

The classroom begins to buzz with chatter, Hinata kicking the back of the chair in front of him with anticipation. He watches his teacher begin, writing out the first pair on the board, then the next, each group standing up to shuffle together and swap items. One girl gets a hula hoop, another, a set of nice hair clips. Some boys get trading cards and paints and all kinds of dice. All the while Hinata watches, holding his creation, waiting for the moment his name is next. 

Nearly the whole class has finished before they get to his name. He stands up immediately, eyes scanning the room as his partner's name is announced— a boy named Fujiwara Keisuke. The boy in question doesn’t stand, instead rolling his eyes as his friends poke and prod him, giggling wildly. Figuring he should move, Hinata trots his way over, holding the house behind his back. Fujiwara looks over to his friends, one of which slaps him on the shoulder, still laughing. 

“H-hey Shouyou,” he says, clearing his throat of laughter. “Whatcha got there?”

“Your _super_ awesome present!” Hinata boasts, rising onto his tip toes. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands!”

Fujiwara listens, but not before quirking his brows and snickering. Hinata hopes that they don’t mind him interrupting their games— whatever they’re laughing about must be hilarious, he guesses. Slowly, he sets the house down into his partners hands, making sure it doesn’t fall. “You can open them now,” he says, taking a step back. 

Fujiwara opens his eyes, staring blankly at the house. Behind him, his friends continue to snicker, punching his arm as he twists his face into a strange smile. 

“Tadah! I made it myself!” Hinata announces.

“What is _this_ supposed to be?” Fujiwara asks, tone lost on Hinata’s obliviousness.

“It’s a gingerbread house made outta popsicle sticks!”

“It’s… _great,"_ Fujiwara says, his smile beginning to grow. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

Hinata stops, thinking for a moment. “Put it on your counter! It’s super cool, right?” 

Fujiwara doesn’t answer, consumed by the giggles of his friends. Hinata waits expectantly, hands clasped behind his back. When no one says anything, he frowns. 

“So... what’d you get me?” he asks, hope beginning to swell. 

At that, his friends all quiet, holding their breaths. Fujiwara reaches into his pocket with one hand, straightening his back. “I got you something even _cooler_ than this thing.” He holds out a closed fist, stretching it out towards Hinata before opening it to reveal—

A stone. 

All of his friends begin howling, shaking his chair and snorting as Hinata takes the stone and turns it over in his hands. It’s smooth, oblong, and brown in colour, so common it hurts and so simple it doesn't make sense. “I don’t get it,” Hinata says plainly, heart deflated. “What’s so great about a rock?”

Fujiwara laughs, shaking his head. “N-nothing! Just thought you’d like it.” Before Hinata can respond, Fujiwara stands, holding up Hinata’s creation. “You know what? I should show this to the whole class, don't you think?” 

Hinata’s spirits lift, the rock forgotten. “Really? You like it that much?”

Fujiwara nods, taking a step forward. “Yeah, let’s show it off!” He takes a deep breath, looking around the class of joyful faces. “Everyone! Look at what _Shouyou_ made me!” 

Their classmates turn their heads, looking towards Hinata and the house in his partner’s hand. Some people whisper, others continue to talk away, but his teacher beams, clapping her hands together. 

“That’s lovely, Shouyou!” she calls out from across the room. 

“Yeah, _lovely,”_ Fujiwara repeats, turning around. He stumbles slightly, his friends pushing on his shoulders as his attention returns to Hinata. He catches his balance once, pausing, but quickly stumbles again, grinning as his hands jerk away from the popsicle sticks, letting the house hit the floor. 

It breaks apart into pieces, the roof and the walls falling apart, the snow flopping off instantly. Hinata gasps in shock, hurriedly reaching down to fix it, but before he can, Fujiwara steps down, crushing it under his shoe. The crunch of popsicle sticks seem to make the room go silent, all murmurs and whispering stopping the same moment his foot lands on Hinata’s hard work.

 _“Oops,”_ he sneers. Hinata’s heart drops, the laughter from before sickening in hindsight. Tears begin to well up in Hinata’s eyes, and the laughter only grows louder, attracting the teacher their way. 

“Oh dear, what happened?” she asks, kneeling down to pick up the mess made by Hinata’s gift. 

“It was an accident— he tripped over Shouyou!” one of Fujiwara’s friends shouts. 

The teacher turns to Hinata, face falling. “You ought to be more careful. This was delicate,” she says, setting it down on a desk. “You boys should try to fix it! I’m sure Shouyou can help.”

“It’s okay,” Fujiwara says, shaking his head. “We can do it ourselves— he can go back to his _friends.”_

The teacher nods, patting Hinata on the back. “You hear that? All is good!”

Hinata doesn’t listen, sunken into his own thoughts. He slinks back to his desk, rock heavy in his hand, no one to return to. He simply curls up at his own desk and waits, staring out the window at the courtyard. He thinks about Oikawa and Iwaizumi, in their own class, wondering if the gifts they got were as lousy as his. He wonders if they would let him in if he ran out now. No one here would miss him, and he’s _sure_ that they’d welcome him with smiles and open arms. 

_Right?_

—

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are more boisterous than usual on their walk home, Iwaizumi playing with a simple model plane, Oikawa chasing after him with shrieks of laughter. To Hinata, the rest of the school day was a blur he can hardly remember, recess shared between the three in the blink of an eye, not half an hour. As they leave the school behind them, Iwaizumi’s enthusiasm cools down, the plane flying along lazily as he looks back at Hinata, eyebrows furrowed. Hinata doesn’t bother running after them, hands shoved in his pockets, stone resting at the bottom of his schoolbag.

“What’s wrong?” Iwaizumi asks, dropping his arm and letting the plane rest. “You’re all quiet.”

Wordlessly, Hinata slings his bag off of his shoulder, undoing the zipper to reach inside and take out his gift— the stone. Oikawa, noticing they’ve stopped, approaches, turning his head and scrutinizing the pebble with a glare.

“Why are you taking a rock home?” he asks, rather obtusely. 

That’s all it takes for Hinata to break, tears flowing from his face uncontrollably as the stone falls to the ground, sinking deep into the snow. Oikawa jumps back, surprised at Hinata’s sudden outburst, looking to Iwaizumi with confusion, as if to say _what happened this time?_

“Shouyou, what—” Iwaizumi begins to ask, only to be cut off by a hiccuping breath by Hinata.

“I— I gave my partner my— my present and he _broke it,_ h-he— he stomped on it and gave— gave me a _rock!”_ he wails, letting the tears fall down his cheeks. “And they— they all laughed and— why— why were they laughing at me? I— I didn’t do any— anything _wrong!”_

Iwaizumi slowly wraps his arms around Hinata, pulling him into a hug. “You _didn’t_ do anything wrong.” At the comfort, Hinata’s wails only get louder, interrupted only by the hiccups that close up his throat.

“Who… who did that?” Oikawa asks, voice small. “I don’t get it. You’re so…” Hinata continues to sob, Oikawa’s words trailing off as he sniffles into Iwaizumi’s jacket. When Hinata doesn’t answer, Iwaizumi pushes him back gently, staring down at him with a tight jaw.

“Tell me who did this,” he says, squeezing Hinata’s shoulders tight. 

“W-what?” Hinata stammers, wiping away his tears with a thick mittened hand.

“Tell me who it was,” Iwaizumi repeats, speaking slowly. 

Hinata hesitates, looking down at his shoes. “Fu-Fujiwara,” he sniffles.

Iwaizumi nods, dropping his shoulders. “Let’s go to Tooru’s. His mom is gonna make cookies,” he tells him, grabbing his hand to pull him forwards.

“She makes the _best_ cookies,” Oikawa assures him, walking along. He smiles, reaching into his bag to hand Hinata a wad of folded tissue papers for him to use. Hinata accepts it, wiping the snot from his nose and stuffing it into his own pocket. The kind gesture, crybaby to crybaby, doesn’t go unnoticed.

They walk back together, much quieter than before, but with the knowledge that what awaits them is cookie dough and warmth, not the jeers of Hinata’s classmates. The rock lies behind them, buried by the snow, left to sit with a memory Hinata hopes to forget as the year draws to a close, nothing but family and friends ahead. He forces a smile to his face and drags his boots through the snow, just happy that he can be here, with his best friends. 

—

Hinata doesn’t find Iwaizumi waiting by the tree come recess the next day. Instead, he finds him surrounded by a small crowd of kids, shouting and looking around worriedly. Hinata pushes his way through to see Iwaizumi’s fist collide with Fujiwara’s cheek, forcing him to stumble back. 

“Wh-what the—“ Fujiwara sputters, only to be hit again. 

“Don’t you _ever_ hurt him again!” Iwaizumi shouts, face twisted with anger. 

Hinata wants to step forward, wants to cry, wants to do _something,_ but is stopped by a hand on his arm. Oikawa holds him in place, silent and pensive, lip quivering. Hinata can only watch with wide eyes as Iwaizumi’s fists go flying, the assault not stopping, not even when Fujiwara starts to fight back. Oikawa stays beside Hinata even as the teachers come rushing forwards, moving to grab Iwaizumi’s hand, the two staring in shock as a teacher pulls him off of Fujiwara.

Iwaizumi gets suspended for two weeks. Fujiwara ended up with a cut lip, a black eye, and no doubt a sense of wounded pride. Hinata is sitting in the principal's office with Iwaizumi when his mother arrives, fuming at him for getting into a fight, with a reluctant sense of pride of her own. Her eyes ghost over Hinata, sitting in a chair too big with his arms wrapped around his knees, and her expression softens. 

“Shouyou, you didn’t get hurt, did you?” she asks, reaching into her purse for cotton swabs. 

Hinata shakes his head, but Iwaizumi protests. “They were being mean to him, they’re _always_ mean to him! Fujiwara deserved it!”

“Not all fights are fought with fists,” his mother tells him while dabbing a cut on his cheek with disinfectant. Iwaizumi winces, and the lesson is something Hinata is sure he won’t forget.

Word spreads throughout school about the incident. Fujiwara nor his friends even look Hinata’s way anymore. No one in his class does. Hinata isn’t sure which he prefers— getting laughed at, or being ignored.

He supposes, now, he doesn’t have a choice.

—

Hinata has never been one to have extravagant Christmas celebrations in the days before the new year. He wasn’t expecting much different this time around, until Oikawa and Iwaizumi began talking of a Christmas party, and until his mother began mentioning it on the good days when his father was home. The idea is a half assembled fantasy in Hinata’s mind— a get together for the adults where the kids can go free, with sweets and good food and soda for everyone. Hinata isn’t sure what he’s more excited about— the soda, a mythical drink he almost never gets to try, or spending a whole night running around with his friends. 

On the night of the party, Ayame dresses Hinata in a nice pair of corduroy overalls, attempting to brush his hair back as he rocks back and forth. She’s wearing red lipstick and a nice dress, looking as pretty as the princesses Hinata reads about at school. He wonders why she never met a prince like the rest of them. His father waits by the door, checking his watch and grumbling as Ayame goes through the motions of tying Hinata’s shoes, slipping on his jacket, and forcing his little hands into tight wool mittens. Hinata tries to escape and run for the door, only to be held back, his mother making kissy noises as she shrieks and laughs.

“Ayame,” his father says, opening the front door. “We’ll be late.”

Ayame straightens, letting Hinata rush outside under his father's arm. “Haruko said to come over anytime. I’m sure they’ll be alright.”

Hinata stops listening, not waiting for his parents as he waddles, bundled up like a Michelin man to Iwaizumi’s house at the end of the street. There are cars lining the sidewalk, shiny like beetles backs, dusted with the light snow that drifts down from the sky. Hinata’s boots _crunch_ in the snow as he darts through the lawn, following the warm glow shining through the windows.

Hinata knocks on the door just as his parents catch up, stepping onto his tippy toes to ring the doorbell. Instantly, it’s thrown open, Haruko greeting them with a wide arms and even wider smile, letting them step inside into the warmth of her own. She hugs both Hinata and Ayame, laughing as she accepts the bottle of a drink Hinata is _never_ allowed to have that his father seems to love so much. He kicks off his shoes and places them with the growing pile, looking for a free hook for his jacket when Haruko takes it from him.

“Don’t you worry about this,” she tells him, speaking loudly over the bustle emanating from inside. “I’m not sure where Tooru and Hajime are— probably with the other kids, but you’ll find them. There’s a lot of people here, but if you get anxious, come find me or the grandparents, okay? You’ve met them before.”

“There’s no need to coddle him,” Hinata’s father sighs, crossing his arms. “He’ll end up spoiled.”

Haruko looks away from Hinata, her brows furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” she says, holding out her hand. “I’m Iwaizumi Haruko, and this is my house. Your son is _more_ than welcome to do as he pleases here.”

Hinata’s father rolls his eyes slightly, taking Haruko’s hand to shake. Haruko’s grip tightens, smile widening as his father’s eyes bulge slightly, a quiet _pop_ audible through the chaos of the entryway. 

“Takeshi,” he grunts. Haruko drops his hand and slings an arm over Ayame, turning back to Hinata with a wink.

“You run off now before the boys tear the house apart looking for you,” she tells him, already waving some other people over. “I have to introduce your mom to some of my sisters!”

It’s all the permission Hinata needs to run off, following the sounds of laughter in search of his friends. The house is packed with aunties and uncles, babies and toddlers, teens huddled around gameboys shouting at each other near the warmth of the fire. Hinata pokes his head into the kitchen before promptly being shooed out, the scent of cooking meat lingering even as he makes his way towards the stairs. 

“Hajime? Tooru?” Hinata shouts, bounding up the stairs. Iwaizumi’s bedroom door is ajar, laughter pouring into the hall. Hinata pokes his head around the door, spotting Oikawa and Iwaizumi playing with a pair of remote control cars. Some other kids gather nearby, watching in awe as the cars whiz between their feet, circling the room. Oikawa looks up from his remote control to see Hinata, a grin splitting across his face. One of the cars changes course, driving past the other kids to slam into Hinata’s feet.

“Whoa!” Hinata yelps, jumping as the car zooms past. “Where’d you get those?”

“Presents,” Oikawa says, looking smug. “Cool, right?”

Hinata rushes forwards, following the car back towards him and Iwaizumi. “Can I try? Please? _Please_ can I try?”

Oikawa wrinkles his nose, holding his controller closer to his chest. “No, I just got mine back from Hajime’s cousins,” he whines, driving the car away from them.

Before Hinata can pout, Iwaizumi hands his own controller into Hinata’s awaiting hands. “Here Shouyou,” he says, pointing out the little control sticks. “Move this one to go up and down, and this one to go left and right.”

Hinata jerks the levers forwards, the car springing to life and immediately knocking against the wall. With a bit of maneuvering, he manages to get the hang of it, weaving the car through a makeshift obstacle course of books and toys. Hinata beams, ramming his car against Oikawa’s to knock it off track. Oikawa gasps, their cars entering a strange kind of fight as they race back and forth. 

“This is so cool!” Hinata says, throwing his arms up into the air. “Are all these people your family, Hajime?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “I think so. Lots of cousins. The older ones didn’t wanna play with cars and legos, though.”

Hinata remembers the teenagers laughing around their video games in the living room, eyes widening. “Whoa…” he says, mostly to himself. Iwaizumi looks at him funny, but doesn’t say anything, simply taking the controller back from Hinata. Hinata watches in a mixture of awe and jealousy, no new toys of his own waiting at home. 

“Did you get anything else?” Hinata asks them. 

Iwaizumi nods. “Just some legos. Did you?”

Hinata looks at his feet. “No, but— but that’s okay! I can watch, right?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Or you could build the set with us. That way we can knock it down with the cars.”

Oikawa turns around, gleaming. “Are we gonna play demolition now?” he asks, almost dropping the controller. “Hajime, you said we’d wait for Shouyou— he’s here now, so we can get started!”

Hinata begins jumping up and down, mirroring Oikawa’s excitement. “Yes! Where’s the legos? What should I do?”

Iwaizumi sets down the controllers, letting his younger cousins fuss over them as he pulls out a large box of legos from his closet. There’s directions in each individual bag, the tiny pieces divided up by type with a kind of organization Hinata can’t begin to appreciate. Together, they splay out the directions and begin to assemble a house, complete with windows and a roof and people sitting inside. It takes longer to work on than Hinata expected, the process tedious enough that half way through, he begins building something completely different. 

Their play is interrupted by a call for dinner, bellowed from downstairs at such a volume that Hinata is sure the house shakes. Toys abandoned, the three bolt downstairs, Iwaizumi leading them to the dining room, transformed with an amalgamation of tables hidden by a cloth. One sits at the end, smaller than the rest, with plates already done up and tiny chairs. It’s where Iwaizumi leads them, sitting them side by side as the other kids press into the seats. Oikawa spots his older sister at the end and sticks out his tongue, earning nothing but a roll of her eyes in return. 

It's the adults that Hinata watches as he eats, their laughter bold and words bolder as they pass around bottles and dishes and desserts. They all seem taller, _bigger,_ far away from where the kids sit, crowded together and talking loud just for the sake of it. Hinata wants to be like them, sipping their tall glasses, leaning onto each other, stealing food from each other’s plates. He can’t make out their conversation from where he sits, not over the noise from the rest of the kids as they shovel food into their mouths and attempt to steal more. Hinata is inclined to do just that, when Oikawa tugs on his sleeve, pulling Iwaizumi in from beside him as he ducks his head.

“We should totally hide under the adult table and listen to all their gossiping,” he whispers, a mischievous grin on his face. The kids table has already begun to clear, the prospect of dessert the only thing keeping them within earshot of the dining room. 

Iwaizumi frowns. “We should _not,_ we’re gonna get in trouble,” he whispers back, slapping Oikawa’s hand away.

All Oikawa has to do is pout for Hinata to grin, bouncing up and down in his seat. “Let’s do it! C’mon Hajime, please?”

“How would we even do it? They’ll notice us before we get under the table,” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa scoffs. “Half of the adults are gone now, it’ll be _fine!_ We have plenty of room to sneak under! We won’t be noticed and no one will know,” he says. Hinata nods in agreement excitedly, looking over towards the adult table. True to what Oikawa said, some of the chairs at the table have been emptied of any adults, the only ones staying being a few of Iwaizumi’s aunts and uncles and their parents— Hinata’s dad excluded. Hinata wonders, absentmindedly, where he went.

Iwaizumi falters at his Oikawa’s logic, unable to think of a good enough counterargument. He huffs, crossing his arms. “Fine, but if we get in trouble I’m putting all the blame on you,” he grumbles. Hinata and Oikawa celebrate their victory with a soft cheer, sporting mirrored smiles. Together, the three of them make their way over to the table. The adults seem too engrossed in conversation to notice their little scheme as they duck down at the other end of the table and crawl underneath.

“Oh he's just— he's just very— it's been different, since Shouyou was born. He's stressed, I guess, you know, kids cost a lot…” Hinata hears his mother say.

“He wasn’t like that before you had Shouyou?” Ritsuko’s voice asks.

“It’s really nothing too serious, just some bad habits!” Ayame exclaims, voice shaking as she laughs. “But… he was a lot less… _angry,_ I suppose. It’s really not that big of a deal. Sure he can be a bit overbearing at times, but… it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“But Ayame, if he’s hurting you—” Haruko says, her voice growing strained..

“It’s not that bad—”

“If he’s hurting _Shouyou—”_

“Haruko,” Ritsuko murmurs. “It’s not that simple, you know that.”

“Haruko, Ritsuko, I appreciate your worry,” Ayame says. “But he’s not hurting me, nor is he hurting Shouyou. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

They hear someone inhale sharply. “Ayame…” Haruko whispers. “I’ve seen the bruises and the cuts—”

“They’re just accidents,” Ayame tells her, answer quick, instinctual. “Shouyou— you know, he’s a rambunctious kid.” Hinata furrows his eyebrows, wondering what _rambunctious_ means. “A few scrapes and bruises… they’re bound to happen, with how much energy he has.”

“But Ayame—”

“Takeshi has never even gotten mad at Shouyou before,” Ayame says, and Hinata’s eyes widen.

 _That’s not true,_ he thinks, eyes watering. _Why is she lying? Papa is always grumpy._ Hinata feels a hand on his arm, and he turns to look at Iwaizumi who pins him with a concerned look.

“Again, I appreciate your concern, I really do,” Ayame whispers, voice cracking. “But it’s not like that. It’s not.”

There’s a moment of heavy silence, the only sound between the three of them the sound of their breathing. Hinata’s can feel himself shaking as tears pour over his eyes.

“Ayame, stay here tonight. Say you got drunk, tell him you’ll be back tomorrow. Let Shouyou stay with the boys. Just— just stay here. Tonight. For us,” Ritsuko insists.

“He wouldn’t allow that,” Ayame mumbles. “You know how he gets. He’s overprotective of us. That’s why Shouyou isn’t allowed out at night and why I can’t come over often.”

“Then we get the men to tell him it was their idea,” Haruko huffs, a note of annoyance in her tone, “if he won’t listen to any women, let alone his own wife.”

Another long silence ensues before they can hear Ayame shakily exhale. “Alright,” she says. “We can try, at least.”

A sigh of relief follows, possibly from Haruko. “I’ll go tell my husband,” Haruko says, chair creaking as she stands up. “Come with us. He’ll understand.” Ayame makes a noise of acknowledgement as she and Ritsuko also stand up.

“It’ll be okay, Ayame,” they hear Ritsuko’s receding voice say. “You have us. You’re not alone.”

The three of them stay under the table as the whole exchange sinks in. The first hiccup shakes Hinata’s shoulders, tears falling onto his hands. He tries desperately to keep his sobs quiet as he curls up, trembling under Iwaizumi’s hand. He isn’t fully sure why he’s crying, but something feels _wrong, so wrong_ and he can’t begin to understand. Iwaizumi wraps his arms around Hinata as Oikawa sits back, at a loss of what to do.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have done that,” Oikawa mumbles.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agrees softly, patting Hinata’s back. “Let’s get out from under here, okay?”

“Mhm,” Hinata hums, breath catching in his throat, sniffling. The three of them crawl out from under the table and go into the kitchen. A woman Hinata recognizes as Iwaizumi’s grandmother stands by the sink, helping another woman wash the dishes. Hinata immediately sinks to the ground, cries growing louder in the somewhat solitude of the cabinets. Iwaizumi reaches forwards, trying to smooth console him as Oikawa hovers nearby, looking back and forth. At the sound of Hinata crying, the two of them turn around, surprise etched across their face as Iwaizumi’s grandma approaches them.

“What happens to be the matter, dear?” she asks softly, her voice shaking with her age. The three of them keep their mouths shut, unwilling to spill that they hid under the adult table and potentially get in trouble. Hinata babbles incoherently, unsure of what he’s trying to convey besides _pain._ Iwaizumi’s grandmother coos at them, patting Hinata on the back. He flinches, but lets her help him up.

“Would some cookies help cheer you up?” she asks, smiling softly at them. “It’s not time for dessert yet, but we can make an exception just this once.”

Hinata sniffles as he rubs his eyes, looking up at her kind expression. It fills him with a kind of indescribable warmth as he nods. “Yes please,” his tiny voice croaks out. Iwaizumi’s grandmother’s smile widens as she takes his hand. Her hand fits around his, wrinkled, yet soft. It’s the first time Hinata has ever felt the sensation, wonder beginning to overtake his sadness.

Iwaizumi’s grandmother leads the three of them over to a cabinet, reaching up to grab a jar. “Each of you can have one,” she says, taking out three cookies and handing one to each of the boys.

“Thank you!” they chime at once, Hinata’s voice still smaller and shaky. As he begins to nibble on the cookie, the sweetness melting in his mouth, he can feel his worries begin to float away. His tears stop, and even though the cookie tastes a bit salty, he eats the whole thing with his best friends by his side. Iwaizumi’s hand touches his gently before he wraps it around it, and Hinata can’t help but feel at ease.

He’s not alone, either.

(Oikawa looks at Hinata and Iwaizumi’s joint hands, and even with the sweetness of the cookie, can’t help but feel a bit bitter.)

—

The rest of the evening had become a bit soured by the whole ordeal, but the news of Hinata’s dad allowing Hinata to stay over fills him with excitement. Hinata learned from the parents that though he was allowed to stay over, his mother still had to go back home. As Ayame explains the situation, he can’t help but notice Haruko’s displeased expression and Ritsuko’s worried one. Something tells him it has to do with the earlier discussion, but he didn’t like thinking about it, so he didn’t.

“I’ll come pick you up in the morning,” Ayame tells him, holding his face as she kneels down to his level. “Be a good boy and behave, okay?”

Hinata nods excitedly. “I will!” he exclaims, giggling as Ayame kisses his forehead.

“Ayame,” Hinata’s father says. “It’s time to go.”

Hinata watches as a wave of an emotion he can’t describe passes by Ayame’s face. She gives Hinata one last big hug, squeezing him gently. “Be safe,” she whispers to him, giving him one last kiss on the cheek before rising to a stand. “I’ll see you two tomorrow,” she says to Haruko and Ritsuko with a tired smile.

Haruko walks over and gives her a tight hug. “You can always call us if you need anything,” she says.

“Thank you, Haruko,” Ayame whispers, patting her back. “If anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”

With that, Hinata’s parents leave, leaving Hinata in the warmth of the Iwaizumi household. It’s a strange feeling, being in another family’s house so late at night. It’s a first time for him, one that fills him with a restless kind of joy. Iwaizumi is quickly pulled away by uncles and aunties, eager to pinch his cheeks as they leave, calling cabs or leaning on each other as they wander back to their cars. Oikawa’s mother ruffles Hinata’s hair after the home empties out, her well manicured nails combing through in a way that makes him smile.

“If you go now, I bet you can get first dibs on the TV…” she sings, smiling down at him. “The living room is all yours. The rest of us adults will be in the dining room.”

Oikawa whips his head around at his mother, eyes wide. “Yuuko hasn’t taken it yet?” he exclaims, face splitting into a grin. “You guys, we _have_ to go, she's the _worst,_ she’s gonna watch the most boring shows for hours and not let us, _c’mon!”_

Oikawa takes off towards the living room, Hinata and Iwaizumi following not far behind. By the time they make it through the doorway, Oikawa’s already settled on the couch, remote in hand with a wide grin on his face, as if he’d just won a game. He’s quick to hit the power button, TV flashing on as Hinata jumps onto the couch, bouncing a bit as Iwaizumi settles next to him.

“What are we watching?” Iwaizumi asks, bringing up his feet to sit criss-cross.

“Space Bears, duh,” Oikawa answers, pressing the play button on the remote.

Iwaizumi grimaces. “Again? We’ve watched Space Bears five hundred times,” he groans.

Oikawa sticks his tongue out at Iwaizumi. “You got any better ideas?” he snarks back at him. He yelps as Iwaizumi tries to reach over Hinata in order to smack him, Hinata laughing as he gets pushed back and forth.

“I haven’t watched Space Bears yet,” Hinata pipes up once Iwaizumi settles back down, crossing his arms. “What’s it about?”

Oikawa scoffs. “It’s only the _best movie ever._ You’ll see!” he says in a sing-song voice, leaning back and making himself comfortable. Hinata watches with wide, curious eyes as the movie begins, brightly colored with soft music that swells as the title of the movie appears on the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Oikawa’s sister— Yuuko— peek in. Oikawa sticks his tongue out at her as he holds the remote close to him, and she leaves in a huff. Oikawa giggles to himself at his small victory, setting the remote back down next to him as he brings his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his head on top of them.

As time goes on, the room grows colder, and Hinata searches for warmth in the shape of Iwaizumi’s form, cuddling up next to him. Iwaizumi stiffens for a moment, but soon relaxes as he lets Hinata lean against him, eyes still glued to the screen as spaceships piloted by cartoon bears shoot at each other with laser beams in every shade imaginable. Hinata burrows underneath Iwaizumi’s arm, head tucked against his chest, a look of contentment in his face. 

Oikawa’s stomach turns, eyes drifting from the television to his friends beside him. Neither pay his wandering gaze any mind, fixated on the flashing colours on the screen and the peppy music filling the room. A crawling kind of nervousness makes its way through Oikawa. It’s foreign and odd and mixes with the sickness in his chest, hot like the peak of summer or a burning flame. Something about the sight of Hinata cozied up into Iwaizumi’s side makes him want to scream, throat squeezing tight as he becomes aware of the slight chill to his skin. He hugs himself tighter, squeezing his legs to his chest in an imitation of the weight of another, and—

 _Oh,_ Oikawa thinks, a moment of calm rushing over him. _I wanna cuddle with Hinata._

As soon as the thought passes through his mind, he can feel himself burst into flames— his chest, his neck, his cheeks, all heating up to a boiling temperature as the realization repeats itself in his mind again and again. It’s not the first time he’s felt warm at the thought of Hinata, but this is that multiplied into a number he can’t comprehend. It’s overwhelming, all-encompassing, and his little body can’t handle how his heart races at the thought of him and Hinata cuddling on the couch together, just like how he is right now with Iwaizumi.

Oikawa decides enough is enough, and hops off the couch. “I’m going to the bathroom!” he announces before taking off.

“But it’s your favorite part!” he hears Iwaizumi calling after him. Oikawa pays it no mind— he _can’t_ right now, too overwhelmed with this fuzzy and tight feeling in his chest. 

He darts into the bathroom, turning the lock behind him before sinking down onto the floor. He covers his face with his hands, rubbing his cheeks as he tries to calm his pounding heart. It’s confusing— he doesn’t know these emotions, can’t put a name to them, has never experienced anything like _this_ before. He keeps thinking back to Hinata and Iwaizumi on the couch, the image burning in his chest, before his mind concocts an image of Oikawa in Iwaizumi’s place. He doesn’t like it, doesn’t like being confused, doesn’t like how hot his cheeks are, doesn’t like how tight his chest is. He doesn’t know how to cope with it aside from grabbing at his skin and hair and shirt and twisting and pulling, trying to get it out physically before he screams.

Oikawa has no idea how much time has passed before his cheeks finally start to cool down, his heart rate lowering back to a normal pace as he rises to a stand. He looks at himself in the mirror, his hair a mess and shirt all twisted up. He wrinkles his nose, pats down his hair and attempts to smooth out his shirt. It barely works, and he gives up on trying to fix it, making his way back to the living room. The sounds of the movie greet his ears, and it’s just as Iwaizumi said— he _did_ miss his favorite part. A scowl forms on his face at the thought.

It was Hinata’s fault, he figures, frown deepening as he hops back onto the couch.

“You were gone for awhile. The movie is almost over,” Iwaizumi comments. “You okay?”

Oikawa turns to meet his eyes, and ends up meeting Hinata’s instead. Both of them sport concerned looks— Hinata’s looking more like puppy dog eyes compared to the wrinkles in between Iwaizumi’s eyebrows. He refuses to admit his panic over wanting to _cuddle_ with Hinata, so he waves it off.

“I’m fine,” he says. “I just got a bit sick.”

“Should we tell your mom?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Nah, I’m fine now,” Oikawa replies, curling up and leaning back onto the couch. Iwaizumi doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t push any further. Distantly, Oikawa notes that the movie _was_ almost over now. How long _had_ he been gone?

They stay there to watch the credits roll, Hinata slowly nodding off against Iwaizumi as the movie finishes up. There’s a tiredness in Oikawa’s bones too, one of a different kind. Iwaizumi’s mom comes to get them once the movie has made its way back to the menu screen, all three of the boys dozing off on the couch. She ushers them upstairs, up to Iwaizumi’s bedroom, where there’s two extra futons on the floor— one for Oikawa, and one for Hinata. She tucks the three of them in, giving each a kiss on the forehead as she does.

“Sweet dreams,” she coos from the doorway, finger on the lightswitch. With a flick, the lights go out, wrapping the three of them in darkness as the energy seeps out of them and into the floorboards, weighing them all down to their respective beds.

As Iwaizumi’s soft snores fill the room, Oikawa finds himself restless, hands behind his head as he stares up at the darkness, just barely able to make out the ceiling. His mind is chaos as he tries to sort through the newfound feelings, mind awake and unable to think of anything else, unable to calm down.

Just as he’s ready to leave all of the thinking for tomorrow, a soft sniffle comes from his left. Immediately, Oikawa knows it’s Hinata. Of course it is, what with deep-sleep-Iwaizumi snoring away the world.

“Tooru?” Hinata whispers, breath catching. “Are you still awake?”

Oikawa seriously debates on staying quiet and pretending to be asleep. He’s already dealing with his own crisis and doesn’t want to deal with whatever Hinata is on top of all of it. But against his internal wishes, his body turns onto his side, facing Hinata. Hinata is already turned towards him, and Oikawa can barely make out the tears that fall from his eyes.

“What’s wrong now?” Oikawa whispers back, propping his head up with his arm. He hears the sheets shuffle and figures Hinata probably shrugged.

“I don’t like the dark,” Hinata replies, a sniffle catching the end of his sentence. “It’s scary.”

Oikawa holds back a scoff. He knows he’s in no place to make fun of Hinata for that— he was the same up until last year or so ago. Instead, he lets out a soft, yet dramatic sigh. “What do you need?” he asks. “I know where all of Hajime’s toys are and can get you a stuffed animal if you want.”

“Can you hold my hand?” Hinata whimpers. “I’m scared, and I don’t wanna wake Hajime up.”

Oikawa hates how that burning feeling pierces his chest at the mention of his best friend. He tries his best to push it to the back of his mind— he promised himself he’d deal with it _tomorrow._ With another sigh, Oikawa holds out his hand. “Sure,” he mumbles. “Here.”

He feels Hinata hesitantly take his hand, intertwining their fingers. He can hear Hinata shuffling closer, and in the back of Oikawa’s throat he wants to tell him to stay away at the same time a part of him relishes in the closeness of Hinata’s hand in his. It’s a push and pull, it’s tiring and Oikawa just wants to sleep and forget about it.

“Thank you,” Hinata whispers one last time, and Oikawa can feel his face twist up as his chest flutters. Exhaustion begins to take him over, eyes closing as his thoughts begin to disperse once again. Before he falls asleep, one last thought crosses his mind:

He _hates_ this feeling.

—

Breakfast the following morning is rowdy and _loud._ Hinata mingles in with the noise created by all of Iwaizumi’s siblings, joining in with their boisterous laughter and play while trying to sit close to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi, never a morning person, is having none of it, trying to keep a distance from both Hinata and Oikawa as his mind goes through the struggle of waking up. Food is passed around and eaten, and before any of them know it, the doorbell rings. Haruko stands from the table to go answer it, the three boys peeking around the corner as she opens the door.

Ayame stands in the doorway, bundled up in her winter coat and scarf. Hinata runs to the door, hugging her legs and nearly knocking her over. Haruko looks over her with crinkled, worried eyes.

“Do you want to come in? We’re just finishing up breakfast,” she offers.

“I’m okay,” Ayame declines softly. “I already ate. I’m just here to take Shouyou home.” She ruffles Hinata’s hair, and he giggles loudly. “Was he okay? Did he behave?”

“He was perfect, don’t you worry,” Haruko says, joining in on patting Hinata’s hair. “Boys, come say goodbye to Shouyou!”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi make their way over to the front door, Iwaizumi rubbing his eyes sleepily as Oikawa holds his hands behind his back. Hinata blinks at them sheepishly as he clings to his mother’s legs. They exchange their goodbyes with tight hugs and— in Hinata’s case— enthusiastic waves as he and his mom walk back to their house.

The front door closes, and Iwaizumi’s mom leaves to collect the rest of the children. Iwaizumi looks to Oikawa, to his tired expression, and frowns.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again.

Oikawa blinks at Iwaizumi, surprised by the question. He takes a moment to think, and he can feel the burning, bitter feeling coming back to his chest. “I’m gonna go home,” he says in lieu of an answer.

Iwaizumi tilts his head in confusion. “I thought we were gonna play games together today,” he says.

“Yeah, well,” Oikawa mumbles, scuffing his foot on the wood floor. His frown turns into a scowl as he glares at the ground. “I’ve got more important things going on.”

It’s Iwaizumi’s turn to scowl at Oikawa’s antics. “What do _you_ have that could be more important?” he huffs. “I thought you were looking forward to it.”

Oikawa sticks his tongue out at Iwaizumi in response. Iwaizumi moves to smack him, and Oikawa dodges in the knick of time, opening the front door and sticking out his tongue again as he leaves.

Iwaizumi is left in the hallway, confused and bewildered.But, he figures if it was really that big of a deal, that Oikawa would confide in him, just like he’s always had. With that belief in his best friend, he turns and goes back inside his home, thinking on how he’ll spend his time alone.

—

The next time the three of them get together is on New Years Eve. This time, the party takes place at Oikawa’s house and spills into their backyard. Hinata holds a cup of hot chocolate in his hands, warming them up. Every time he takes a sip, a warmth seeps through him that travels up to his head and down to his toes. He can see his own breath, can see the stars so clearly, can see his best friends on either side of him looking up at the same sight. It brings them together, this moment, with the warmth of a hot drink and each other filling up Hinata’s heart.

It’s incredibly late, later than Hinata had ever been allowed to stay up before. Inside the house, he can hear the loud cheers as the clock counts down to the new year. He _loves_ it here. He doesn’t usually like the loud noises and yelling, but when Oikawa and Iwaizumi are with him, nothing is scary.

Suddenly, there’s a movement far above, a bright spark of light that draws away from the bustle below **.** It fizzles across the sky, a flash of brilliant white that sounds out starkly from the inky expanse of the night sky. It’s brighter than any firework, clear and crisp like the stars that twinkle overhead, leaving a trail in the sky behind it as it falls.

“A shooting star!” Oikawa all but screams with excitement. “Did you see that? Did you see that?! Wasn’t that so cool?!”

Hinata stares up at the sky in awe, eyes sparkling like the stars above. “That was so cool! I’ve never seen one before!” he yells, bouncing in place. “That was so cool!”

“I’m gonna make my wish right now!” Oikawa announces, putting his hands together and closing his eyes. “I wish that… that… um…”

“I wanna make a wish too!” Hinata exclaims, mimicking Oikawa and putting his hands together, too.

“If you say your wish out loud then it won’t come true,” Iwaizumi huffs. 

Oikawa looks at him, shocked. “You never told me that before!” he squawks, indignant. “I told you my wishes so many times and that’s the first I’ve heard of that!” He moves to wrestle with Iwaizumi, pulling at his coat and whining about all the wishes he’s lost because of him. Iwaizumi fights back, trying to put him in a headlock as they argue back and forth. Hinata laughs as they wrestle to the ground, trying to shove snow in each others faces.

Hinata turns his attention back to the sky, hands still held together as he closes his eyes.

And he makes a wish.


	4. petals fall, flowers bloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! this is a day early because i got super impatient lmao. theres a content warning for this chapt, so peek at the end note if you wanna be warned.  
> \- mooks
> 
> —
> 
> HI I LOVE RHIS CHAPTER AND I HOPE U DO TOO  
> \- kj

One school year fades while another begins. Hinata watches with wonder from the kitchen window, eating his breakfast while his mother packs his bento into his bag. His father has left for work already, leaving the house welcome to the sounds of his mother humming and Hinata’s worries. 

“What if my new teacher is mean?” he asks, tapping his fingers against the rim of his bowl. “What if the kids in this class are boring or something?”

“You always have Tooru and Hajime nearby,” Ayame reminds him. She takes away the empty bowl, using her free hand to swipe a grain of rice from Hinata’s cheek. “And at the very least, you’ll see them at recess.”

Hinata nods, leaning away as she begins to fuss over the collar of his uniform. It's brand new— he grew enough in the last year that the sleeves grew much too short on his arms. Still stiff from disuse and pristine, the uniform scratches against Hinata’s skin despite his mother’s best efforts. She gives up with a soft sigh, smiling down at him. 

“You ready to go? I bet Hajime and Tooru are out waiting,” she says, resting her hands on her hips. 

Hinata jumps up, following her footsteps to the front door. There’s a checklist they follow as he pulls on his shoes— _indoor shoes? Coat? Books? Your lunch?_ Hinata nods and nods and nods until he’s a touch dizzy, too busy trying to focus his vision and look outside to listen. Iwaizumi and Oikawa are wrestling at the end of the driveway, with Oikawa caught in a headlock as Iwaizumi grins. He worms free in a few moments, spotting Hinata watching through the window. As his eyes blow wide, he pivots, turning his nose up at the thought of being caught weak. 

“Take care!” Ayame calls, waving to the other boys as Hinata stumbles out of the front door. He’s beaming as he runs to catch up with his friends, backpack bouncing behind him. As he’s met with the smiles of Iwaizumi and Oikawa, dressed in their uniforms with school bags slung on their backs, he feels his spirits lift. How could he ever be scared with his friends at his side?

Sunshine peeks through the petals of the cherry trees lining the sidewalk, casting a pink glow across their skin. Hinata looks up in awe at the tiny blossoms, jumping to grab a low hanging branch and pull it down towards him. The flowers are tiny in his small hands. With little effort, he plucks them from the branch, letting the twig snap back up to its original position. Petals fly into the air, drifting back down with the force of their sudden movement, carried with the breeze along the road. 

“Look what I got!” Hinata says, running to catch up with Oikawa and Iwaizumi. He holds out the flower, spinning it between his fingers. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Oikawa takes it from Hinata’s grasp and holds it up to the sun. “You bruised the petals,” he sighs, giving it back to him. Petals cling to his hair without his knowledge, caught in the waves carefully combed back. Hinata smiles despite the bruised petals of his flower, placing it onto Iwaizumi’s school bag. 

“Doesn’t matter if it’s squished— it’s still cool!” Hinata counters, raising his chin high like he’s seen Oikawa do countless times before. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at the two of them. 

The schoolyard is already emptying as they arrive, kids rushing indoors to make it to their first class of the new year in time. Iwaizumi ropes Oikawa into walking Hinata to class, parting ways with him at the door. Hinata’s stomach twists as they leave, knocking shoulders and laughing as other classmates run up to meet them. He looks inside at the classroom that awaits him— the desks in neat rows and the faces, some familiar and some not. There’s a desk at the end of the row with his name on it, the name card scribbled on with green marker that smudges the ink of his name. Hinata walks over and pouts as he holds it, turning it over in his hands. The snickers of a few kids beside him draws his attention aware, towards the faces of boys he recognizes from the year before. He tries to offer them a smile, like he’s in on the joke, and is met with nothing but wrinkled noses and blank stares. 

Their teacher stands up from her spot at the front of the classroom, quieting the raucous with a few claps of her hands. “Alright, class, let's get settled,” she calls out, smiling warm and wide. Hinata perks up, leaning onto his elbows as the teacher begins to write on the board. There’s introductions, cubby assignments, name games and a long, winding list of class rules. By the time she finishes, Hinata is squirming in his seat, unable to keep still.

“Now, before you leave for lunch, why don’t you write down one thing you want to do this school year and leave it on my desk?” the teacher says, hands on her hips. “Then, you can grab your lunch!”

Hinata’s stomach growls. He’s quick to scribble something down about friendship and toy cars, folding the paper in half, and half again for good measure. He pushes out his chair with a drawn out scraping noise, hurrying towards his teachers desk from his spot at the back of the room. He’s halfway across the classroom, eyes trained upwards making him completely unaware of the leg jutting out from one of the kids to his right. It knocks his legs out from under him, the world going sideways before he even realizes he’s been tripped. In a last ditch attempt to catch himself, Hinata throws out his hands. He’s a second too late, nose colliding with the freshly waxed linoleum floor just a moment before his hands do. 

There’s a split second where pain obstructs Hinata’s vision, the world a little too pale to be normal. As he blinks away the shock and the tears from his eyes, he stares down at the white linoleum floor, watching a slow splatter of blood drip from his nose and onto the tile. It’s then that he’s aware of the sounds around him— the laughter, the chatter, the badly hidden comments of _what a klutz_ that echo around him. He blinks away the tears as his teacher rushes forwards, grabbing him by the elbow and hoisting him up to a standing position.

“Careful, Hinata! This is why we don’t run in class,” she tells him, pressing a tissue to his nose. “Go and visit the nurse’s office and get yourself all fixed up, okay?”

Hinata hardly hears her, too focused on the way the back of his neck burns in shame. With his classmates' eyes glued to his skin and fat tears rolling down his cheeks, Hinata tips his head down, letting his bloody nose leak down into the tissue. He can’t sniffle back his tears without the horrible taste of iron filling his mouth. Instead, he’s left to cry uselessly as he walks to the front of the classroom, into the empty halls, all the way to the nurse’s office. He’s still crying when the blood stops, when it’s been wiped from his face and cleaned from his clothes. It hurts, somehow, not in his nose but deep inside, like a bruise that never healed, throbbing and aching. 

He doesn’t want to tell Oikawa and Iwaizumi— not after Iwaizumi got in trouble last time. But as he drags his feet on the walk home from school Iwaizumi’s concern and Oikawa’s confusion become too much to bear. 

“I— I tripped in front of my whole class,” Hinata mutters. It’s true, so it isn’t a _real_ lie. “Then I got a bloody nose.”

Oikawa wrinkles his nose. “Gross,” he says, stepping closer to inspect Hinata’s face. “S’not bruised though— that’s lucky!”

Hinata shrugs, looking over at Iwaizumi. “I guess.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrow, arms crossed across his chest. For a moment, Hinata worries he’s been found out, that the drag of his toes in the dirt has given away all the secrets. But Iwaizumi just frowns, looking at his feet and not Hinata. “Be careful next time, okay?” 

Hinata nods in earnest. puffing out his chest. “‘Course I will,” he replies, tilting his chin up. It’s all in an effort to ignore the part of him that cries _but it wasn’t my fault,_ curled up in the corner of his mind. 

At the very least Iwaizumi smiles, mirrored by the carefree way Oikawa bumps their shoulders together. “Let's go home already! I wanna get chores over with so we can play outside.”

It breaks the remaining tension between the three, sparking Hinata’s excitement once more. There’s no point in worrying now, as they walk side by side on the crowded pavement, Hinata stepping off onto the grass as it narrows. Above them, cherry blossom petals fall, pink and as pretty as anything Hinata has ever seen. He holds onto this moment and pushes the day behind him, the school behind him, happy to head back to where he can play without fear— back home. 

—

Classes don’t get better. Somehow, Hinata’s reputation as a klutz sticks, leaving him alone in his corner of the room, watching the back of his peers' heads as they tilt together in whisper’s he’ll never be privy to. The clock above the door becomes his only solace, ticking down until recess, ticking down until lunch, ticking down until the day ends. Second year has a lot less breaks than first, and Hinata finds the time between each longer and longer with every day that passes. His chances to stand, to stretch, to fret to and fro how he always does are repressed into the small allotted times, save bathroom breaks. Hinata tries to avoid those— they travel in pairs and his partners _always_ end up leaving him, or worse, teasing him through the bathroom stalls. 

Hinata’s role in group work changes. First it’s the copier, who says nothing but writes everything down. He’s quick to lose that job due to messy handwriting and smudged characters that never look as pretty as the girls’ do. Second is a workhorse, the one who does it all while the others lean against the wall, huddling around a gameboy someone managed to sneak into class. Music turned all the way down, the kids take turns passing it between them, trying not to shout and fight over who plays what. Hinata looks at the shiny screen in awe, wondering if Iwaizumi or Oikawa would ever get one. He knows, by now, it’s the kind of thing his father would never waste a cent on. This role lasts until they get back a grade— terrible enough that some kids' parents ground them, the gameboy never reappearing in class again. Then he becomes the watcher, the one who sits and waits for the teacher to pass, asking the questions the other kids deem too stupid to voice. They still snicker when he calls them out, rolling their eyes and correcting them as if they didn’t just tell him to raise his hand. It confuses Hinata until he realizes they knew the answer in the first place, when his confusion changes to a question of _why_ hanging on his lips as he turns back to his classmates, ears red and voice quiet. 

His mother never seems that worried about his grades. She looks at the marks on quizzes and smiles, ruffling his hair no matter what they say. “It’s better than the last!” she tells him, tucking the paper into the pocket of her apron. “The next one you’ll knock right out of the park.”

Hinata mimes swinging a baseball bat. He wishes she’d pin them up on the fridge, like Oikawa’s mom does. Oikawa preens every time they pass through the kitchen, his sister groaning and tearing her own work off. Oikawa once said that his sister was going through _teenage angst._ Hinata doesn’t get what he means— nor does he really know what _angst_ means— but she looks the same as before, if not a little more grumpy. She sometimes hogs the phone, spinning the cord around one pink polished finger, laughing about something in a way eerily similar to Oikawa. These are the only times they manage to sneak into her room, stealing nail polishes and makeup and stashing it away in Oikawa’s bedroom. Iwaizumi’s siblings are all younger— only Oikawa has the luxuries of snatching big-kid goodies from his sister. Girly or not, they play pretend, mimicking her grown up tone of voice as they smear glitter on their eyelids and paint their nails blue. 

Ritsuko catches them in the act when she arrives home from work, eyes widening almost as fast as her smile. None of them are quick enough to escape, and in a few moments, before Yuuko can inflict her rage upon her brother, they’re lined up against the wall, camera flashing. Oikawa puckers his lips and Iwaizumi scowls, while Hinata, squished between the two, stands on the tips of his toes to be level in height. Oikawa is the tallest out of the three, but Iwaizumi _swears_ he won’t be for long.

That night, when Hinata heads home, his mother looks at him with a smile that falters. “Do you like it?” Hinata says, voice bright. “We stole it all from Tooru’s big sister— she was _so mad—”_

Ayame places her hands on Hinata’s cheeks, smile not quite reaching her eyes. “You look _very_ cute mister, but you better wash up before your father sees you,” she whispers, wiping some of the pink powder from his cheek. Hinata remembers seeing his father’s car in the driveway, and wonders where he might be.

She leads him to the bathroom and shuts the door, leaving Hinata to scrub off the makeup with what his mother quickly pointed to. It’s oily and slick and leaves his skin feeling weird, but all of the colour washes off with a few swipes. He splashes water onto his face when he finishes, just like he sees his dad do when he shaves, and pretends that he, too, is getting ready for a long day at work. There’s a trace of colour to his cheeks, but he reckons it's from scrubbing so hard.

When he leaves the washroom, his father and mother are talking quietly by the table, Ayame setting down his father’s dinner. Their eyes drift to him— his mother with a kind of relief that makes Hinata’s own stomach stir. He grins wide and plops down next to her, digging into his own plate. 

His father stops talking, a stiffened silence taking over the room. Ayame’s eyes drift over to Hinata’s hand, the one not holding his chopsticks, drumming on the table with all of the extra energy in the world. She stares at the tacky blue polish and bites her lips, quickly looking up at his father at the same time he speaks.

“What the hell is that?” he asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Shouyou, give me your hand.”

He reaches across the table. Hinata flinches away, pulling his arms close to his chest. But his father has a reach much longer than his, grabs his wrist with a grip so tight Hinata winces and looks to his mother in hopes that she’d make it stop. She doesn’t even say his father's name, shocked silent as his father stands up and takes Hinata with him. Hinata’s chair clatters to the ground, the sound loud enough to startle Ayame from her shock, pace quick and voice heightening in tension as Hinata fights against his father's hold. 

“Takeshi! He didn’t do anything wrong—”

“Oh, _shut up,_ would you?” his father replies, throwing Hinata down against the dining room floor. He lands on his tailbone, the ache shooting up his back as he curls around himself. “It’s your own goddamn fault, your fault and those women— _you know who I’m talking about,_ those friends of yours— it’s their fault our son is turning into such a fucking—”

Hinata starts crying, and the tears muddle out whatever his father says next. He scoots to the corner of the room, cowering against the wall as his father’s voice booms over the panicked tone of his mother’s. He squeezes his eyes shut and covers his ears as his father raises his fist, blocking out the sight and sound of what he knows always follows.

In his mind’s eye, he imagines a shooting star—

And he makes a wish.

—

When he returns to school the next day, the polish has been scrubbed off, the backs of his hands swollen and red. When Oikawa asks where the polish went, Hinata goes rigid, goes silent. Iwaizumi changes the subject before he ends up in a fit of tears. 

They don’t go into Yuuko’s room again.

—

It’s still early in the morning on a Sunday when Hinata runs over to Iwaizumi’s front door, brimming with ideas for how they can spend their day off. He stands on his tip toes and holds down on the bell, listening to it ring through the halls before the sound of footfalls grows louder. When the door swings open, he’s met with the face of a tired looking Haruko, holding one of Iwaizumi’s younger sisters in her arms. 

“Oh, Shouyou, I’m sorry— Hajime’s gotten sick,” she says, readjusting the toddler on her hip. “He can’t play with you or Tooru today.”

Hinata’s face falls. “Is he gonna be okay?” he asks, looking past her legs into the house. There isn’t much to see.

“Of course he will! He just needs lots of rest, and he won’t be able to do that if he’s out playing around,” she explains. “And we don’t want you catching whatever he’s got, now do we?”

Hinata wrinkles his nose. The last time he was sick, he spent the whole time crying and cooped up in bed. As much as he wants to see Iwaizumi, he’d _hate_ to be like that again. 

With a smile, sigh, and a promise that Haruko would let Iwaizumi know he stopped by, Hinata heads next door to the Oikawa household. Hanging from the eavestrough are wooden windchimes, echoing in the gentle wind. Hinata holds onto the doorbell a little longer, hoping that Oikawa can hear it over the sounds of the chimes clanging together. 

The door is thrown open in moments by Oikawa himself, his eyes wide with horror and his face dead serious. “Shouyou, where’s Hajime?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.

“Sick,” Hinata tells him. Oikawa’s face falls.

“Oh _no,”_ he groans, stepping outside and slamming the door behind him. He bites his lip, crossing his arms before taking a deep sigh. “Great. You’re the only one left I can rely on to save me.” 

“Save you?” Hinata asks, tilting his head.

“From my _sister!”_ Oikawa exclaims in an elaborate stage whisper. “My parents wanna go on this picnic and _she’s_ gonna be there and she’s _so_ annoying! I don’t wanna spend the day with her!”

Hinata’s face lights up, chest bubbling. “Let’s hide in my backyard! And then when they leave— bam! We can do whatever we want!”

Before Oikawa can reply, the front door opens once again, revealing the grinning face of his mother. She’s wearing a pretty white top with a flower pattern, faded knee-length jeans, and a well worn denim jacket, and Hinata has enough time to wonder if she's secretly a movie star before she reaches down to snag Oikawa.

“Oh no you don’t,” she says, pinching his cheek before he can run off. “You’re not getting out of this one, mister.”

Oikawa scrunches up his face, whining pitifully. “But _mom,_ I’m already playing with Shouyou, see? I can’t go now!”

Ritsuko looks over to Hinata, offering him a small wave. “Hey Shouyou! Tooru’s gonna be coming to a family picnic today, so he won’t be able to play. Why don’t you head over to the Iwaizumis and see if he’s up for it?”

“Hajime’s _sick,”_ Oikawa and Hinata say in unison, both desperate to get off of the front porch. They look at each other, stunned into silence until Ritsuko hums, letting go of Oikawa’s cheek.

“Is that true?” she asks, looking at Hinata. He nods. “Is your dad home?”

Hinata shakes his head. “Papa went out this morning. He was _real_ upset about something— Mama says sometimes he just leaves to blow off steam.”

Ritsuko nods, setting her hands on her hips. “Why don’t we see if she’ll let you tag along? That way Tooru doesn’t fight with his sister!”

“I don’t fight with Yuuko, she fights with me!” Oikawa snaps, crossing his arms. 

Ritsuko looks over her shoulder, frowning. “You threw your stuffed animal at her this morning, don’t you pretend you didn’t.” She turns back to Hinata, smile returning. “Now, let’s all head over and see if your mom doesn’t want to tag along too!”

With that, she grabs both his and Oikawa’s hands, swinging them as they walk across the street to the end of the cul-de-sac. Ayame is hanging the laundry out to dry when they approach, her smile bright as she spots Ritsuko hand in hand with the two.

“We’re headed down to the park to have a picnic,” Ritsuko tells her, letting Hinata wander back towards his mom. “Tooru can’t seem to stand being alone with his sister, and with Hajime under the weather, taking Shouyou with us will keep him occupied. You could even come along!”

Ayame’s brow furrows as she tucks her hands into the pockets of her apron. “Oh, you don’t have to, if you want to spend time with your family—“

Ritsuko cuts her off. “You and Shouyou are _always_ welcome in my family,” she says, resting a hand on Ayame’s shoulder. “It’s no trouble if you both tag along.”

Ayame’s gaze falters, eyes darting down to Hinata and back towards the home. Hinata rocks on his heels in anticipation, hoping that the word that falls from her lips is _yes._

“Shouyou,” she says, combing a hand through his hair. “Why don’t you go with the Oikawas? I’ve got lots of work to do here before your father gets home tonight.”

Ritsuko squeezes Ayame’s shoulder, no pity in her eyes as she smiles. “We’ll be back before dinner. I’m sure they’ll all have fun.” She pauses, smoothing her hand down Ayame’s arm. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Ayame shakes her head, wringing out her hands. “The house is a mess. I need to clean up Takeshi’s— the mess before Takeshi comes home.”

Ritsuko’s smile falters, her hand stilling on Ayame’s arm. Hinata watches his mother flash a bright smile, the kind that always makes his nerves quiet down when he can’t seem to stop. It doesn’t make Ritsuko melt like it would to him, but Ayame holds strong and grabs Ritsuko’s hand, squeezing.

“I’ll be fine,” Ayame tells her, releasing her hand. “Don’t worry about me.”

For a moment, Ritsuko’s hand lingers between them, before she pulls it back to rest by her side. “Just call me if you need me, okay? If you need a hand or change your mind. You have my number.”

The rest of their conversation becomes lost to Oikawa and Hinata’s excitement. Their last ditch plan feels more like a successful heist, unfiltered joy spilling over in their smiles. Hinata lets his mother kiss his cheek before he and Oikawa take off for the car, running in an unspoken race that Oikawa somehow wins. 

Their triumphant glee wears off somewhat once they pile into the car. Hinata sits on Oikawa’s old booster seat, between him and his sister, with a picnic blanket folded up on his lap. Its pink and white gingham print is faded from use, the linen soft against Hinata’s hands when he runs his hands up and down the sides. Tightly packed into the car, with picnic baskets piled between them, Oikawa begins to squirm. The odd times that Oikawa and Hinata spent time together by themselves are far and few between, a smattering of conversations on rainy days in front of the television. Hinata smiles bright and wide every time Oikawa spares him a glance, and the resulting frustration that boils in Oikawa’s stomach is almost as terrible as the fluttering in his chest. The view outside of the window becomes his only salvation, a blurry mirage of pink flowers and hard shelled cars that whiz past like cicadas in the dead of summer. 

It takes a few minutes to unload the car after they arrive at the park, Ritsuko piling baskets and cameras onto Oikawa and Yuuko before they can take off. As Oikawa strains to see over the basket in his arms, he catches sight of Hinata, still hugging the blanket nearly as large as him, arms struggling to wrap around the entire width. Chin tipped upwards and eyes blown wide, he stares at the petals drifting slowly through the air, carried on the back of the warm spring breeze. Quieted by the sight, Oikawa can do nothing but watch, captivated by the sight of Hinata so engrossed in the simple thing that is petals falling to the ground. Stirring in his stomach is a discomfort he still can’t name, because he can’t make fun of Hinata’s wonder when he’s caught in much the same transfixiation. Petals fall and make their home in Hinata’s mess of half brushed hair, pale pink against the vibrant orange strands, and Oikawa has to fight the desire to pluck them free.

“Pretty, isn’t it boys?” Ritsuko says, walking up to them with her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you find a good spot to roll out that blanket?”

Hinata’s attention snaps back to Oikawa’s mother. “Okay!” he shouts. “Tooru, where should we put it?”

Oikawa bristles, less in annoyance at Hinata’s excitement and more at the flutter in his stomach at the full force of his attention. He forces himself to look away, scanning the park already teeming with families and couples curled up under the trees. He ignores his sister’s huff of impatience, pointing past the winding stream that cuts through the park, towards the other side of the bank.

“Past the bridge,” he tells them. Yuuko groans, already complaining about the walk as she sets off to the spot Oikawa picked. 

Oikawa doesn’t know why he doesn’t follow her, or run to keep up with his mother’s long strides. He stands still, waiting until Hinata can tear his eyes away from the slow spiral of petals above them. Oikawa wants, more than anything, to stop the fluttering in his stomach, in his chest. But running away from Hinata, from _Shouyou,_ would be losing in his mind. More than anything, Oikawa doesn’t want to lose. So here he stays, waiting out his own wonderful nausea and Hinata’s amazement.

“Wow,” Hinata says, breaking Oikawa from his thoughts. “I bet Hajime would like this.”

He’s not looking at him, eyes focused at something Oikawa can’t quite see. He’s right, though— Iwaizumi _loves_ springtime, loves sitting in the dirt and gardening alongside his parents. Oikawa has spent enough time flicking dried mud off his clothes to know.

“Well, he’s sick,” Oikawa finds himself saying, and even he’s confused at his tone. Iwaizumi is _his_ best friend, and yet, Hinata’s not the one he’s upset at. “Come on, you got the blanket, we need it to set up.”

Oikawa starts walking off in the direction of his parents, forcing himself not to slow for Hinata alone. Still, he can’t help but look back, to make sure he hasn’t wandered off, some part of himself forever changed by the night with the fireflies and Hinata’s tears under the streetlamps. 

They make it to the other side of the bridge and roll out the blanket by the knotted base of a cherry tree. Another grows right beside it, close enough that their roots tangle together and break through the ground beside them as if they had become one. Nestled between his mother and Hinata, Oikawa eagerly dives into the basket, much to his sister’s chagrin. She reaches across the blanket to swat his hand away, mumbling about _gross hands,_ _full of dirt_. 

“Wait for the rest of us, Tooru,” his father chides. “And Yuuko, be nice to your brother.”

His parents begin unpacking their lunch— an assortment of rice balls, a bento for Oikawa, and all kinds of fruits and vegetables. There’s more than enough for Hinata to snack on, even if he wasn’t originally supposed to come along. Seeing Hinata smile around a mouthful of mango kickstarts the warmth spreading through Oikawa’s chest, frustratingly so. There’s no certainty that getting him to come along was any kind of achievement, but the small joy of eating food together is enough to convince him that maybe it was worth it. He’s still reluctant to tear off a piece of his milk bread for Hinata, despite that warmth. There’s an expectation in his mother’s eyes that he should feel guilt, and yet, amidst his own selfishness, all he can find is that desire to see Hinata’s spark again. For that reason alone, he shares half, unsure if the sweetness of his smile is any better than the bread on his tongue.

If Iwaizumi were here, he might’ve fought off the feeling. He wouldn’t have a need to share— Iwaizumi would take a single look at Hinata and let him have his dessert without even commenting. He never had the same tendency to overthink that Oikawa did, kept his feet planted firmly on the ground while Oikawa drifted off in his head.

He wishes Iwaizumi were here.

He’s glad he isn’t. 

Eventually, the conversation between his parents and Yuuko becomes harder to follow, and the boys grow antsy Hinata first, innocently kicking his feet and looking around, Oikawa second, with a huff of annoyance on his breath as he shifts from side to side. There’s a strange sort of restlessness that comes from spending too much time in his own head, thinking about Hinata instead of just _talking_ to him like he usually does. When, he asks himself, digging his nails into the linen of the blanket, did he start worrying about what Hinata thinks? Ritsuko casts them a sidelong glance before waving her hand in all of the permission Oikawa needs. Without a second glance to Hinata, he rolls off the blanket and into the dirt, vaulting over the roots towards the bridge.

“Tooru!” his mother calls after him, forcing Oikawa to freeze in his tracks with a groan. “Take Shouyou with you!” 

The pitter patter of Hinata’s footsteps in the grass grows louder, and though Oikawa doesn’t look back, he stops to wait. Any plan at escaping Hinata and the growing mountain of realization on the horizon vanishes the moment Hinata looks up with him with the brightest of smiles, rice still stuck to his cheek. Wrinkling his nose, Oikawa wipes it away with a scoff. “Don’t get lost.”

“I won’t,” Hinata says, somewhat mumbled with the force of Oikawa wiping his face. “So! What’re we playing! Hide and seek? Pretend?”

Oikawa stops to think. The park isn’t crowded, but its open nature doesn’t entirely lend itself to hiding, and as much as he loves to pretend, the game involves too much talking for him and Hinata alone. “I bet,” he starts, words heavy in his mouth, “that you can’t outrun me.”

The light that sparks in Hinata’s eyes is familiar, stemming from the seeds of competition long since sowed in them both. “Can too,” Hinata replies in a mockery of his own taunt. 

With the beginnings of a smile rising to his face, Oikawa breaks away, taking off into a full sprint across the park. The cherry blossoms, once peaceful in their descent from the trees, fly away as he whizzes by with a soft _whoosh._ Hinata’s laughter from behind him cuts through the babble of the brook. Louder than anything else is Oikawa’s heart, pounding in his chest with every glance back towards him. 

This is what Oikawa is good at: bolting from Hinata’s encroaching laughter, grinning with the thrill of escaping his hands. The insurgence of butterflies fluttering in his stomach slows him as much as the petals do. They part, like the whole world seems to do, for them and them alone. Oikawa skids to a stop, rounding the thick trunk of an older tree. If only for a moment, he lets Hinata grow closer, watches the sun shine against fiery hair, the glow in his eyes golden and everlasting. Time doesn’t slow, but the memory of his cheeks flushed with red remains fixed at the back of Oikawa’s mind even as he starts running. 

Oikawa doesn’t see Hinata trip. Instead, he hears the _snap_ of a root and the half formed yelp that he’d normal tease Hinata for. In a moment of confusion, he stops in his tracks and turns to face him just as Hinata’s hands land on the ground. Oikawa rushes back to him, kneels without thinking, leaves the game to be forgotten until another time. There’s no blood that he can see, and the plush grass beneath them is void of rocks or sharp objects that’d cut him in the first place. Still, Oikawa looks at Hinata's face expecting tears and finds only a frown and a slight furrow to his brow.

“Are you alright?” Oikawa asks.

Hinata sits back onto his heels, clapping the dirt from his hands. “I’m good, I’m good.” Clouds of dirt fall down onto his pants, already stained with grass.

“No bleeding? None at all?” Oikawa says, pressing further. Hinata shakes his head. “Good.”

Oikawa lets himself sit down properly, settling down in the dirt as the momentary shock leaves him. After all of that, he still can’t help but be bound to Hinata no matter how he tries. Tipping his head upwards, he watches the petals as they fall. The sky domes above his head, curving at the edges of his vision where Hinata is, a bundle of bright hair at the corner of his eye. The sun shines above, barely covered by the trees bowing above them. The effect is a cascading show of shadows as the petals fall, pink light warming their faces. Here, with Hinata, Oikawa takes it in. The beauty here will vanish in a week’s time, but Hinata will remain. Their friendship has lasted through every season now— it’s hard to remember a time before Hinata was there.

What he _does_ remember, what sticks out in the faded line between memories, is the moments of strangeness that never existed when it was just him and Iwaizumi. There was never tight knitted tension in traversing the yard to play in each other’s house like there is for Hinata, was never a time where he felt nervous when the adults came around. And ever since that night, with the fireflies and lamplight casting shadows over Hinata’s father and his anger, Oikawa hasn’t quite looked at Hinata the same. Bruises his eyes normally skipped over seemed to grow darker on Hinata’s skin, appearing on days when Oikawa doesn’t remember seeing him play. More than any of the feelings leaving his heart in unrest, Oikawa is plagued by confusion, a twisting unrest at what he doesn’t understand about Hinata. 

“Hey,” Oikawa mumbles, hoping Hinata doesn’t hear.

Hinata perks up, attention snapping to Oikawa in an instant. “Hm? What?” 

Oikawa’s throat tightens, mouth beginning to dry. “Why… why did you lie?”

“Lie about what?” Genuine confusion flashes across Hinata’s features, nestling between his brows as he pouts.

“I heard people at school talking about you. They said they tripped you in class. But you told us you tripped and that caused your bloody nose. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Hinata’s face falls, body freezing with a kind of stillness Oikawa isn’t sure he’s seen. His mouth opens, but he says nothing, doesn’t answer in time to stop Oikawa’s frustration from bubbling forth.

“Why are you always bruised up? Why can't you stay out late? Why does your mom always look tired? Why— why can’t you come over to sleep with me ‘nd Hajime?” The words tumble out before Oikawa can stop them, words wet with his own worry, until there’s nothing left for him to say. All he can do is stare Hinata down and watch his expression shift from confused to horrified, to simply sad. Tears begin to well up in Hinata’s eyes, and it dawns on Oikawa just how much he’s messed up. He reaches out to Hinata, hands stopping an inch from his shoulders to hover with uncertainty as Hinata wipes his own eyes. 

“I- I dunno. I just want everyone to be happy. I don’t want anyone to get made or angry,” Hinata sniffles. “It’s scary…”

Oikawa pulls back slightly, biting his lip. “Scary?” 

Nodding, Hinata pulls his knees to his stomach. “I don’t want Hajime to get in trouble anymore. I don’t want Papa to be angry— it's— it's my fault.” 

Oikawa looks at Hinata, sweet, small, sometimes stupidly kind Hinata, and takes in his words with disbelief. “But… why would your dad be angry? What did you ever do?” 

“I don't know,” Hinata says. The tears fall faster now, no longer held back by the hands covering his eyes as he begins to sob. “I don’t know! I don’t _know,_ I don’t know…”

Hinata repeats the words on a loop, slowly beginning to rock himself back and forth, back and forth. Nothing else matters to Oikawa now. Not school or Iwaizumi’s cold or his sister’s teasing. The panic consumes all other thought, until all he can think to do is hold Hinata’s shivering form to his chest as tight as he possibly can. He can feel Hinata’s hiccuping breaths against his arm, each exhale short and stunted with tears. Oikawa’s heart pounds in his chest, so hard he thinks Hinata might feel it rattling against him. He seizes up in Oikawa’s arms, stops rocking long enough that Oikawa worries he’s made things worse. But after a moment, he goes lax, sinking so that his wet cheek presses against Oikawa’s shoulder. 

It dawns on him that this might be the first time he and Hinata have hugged. They’re roughhoused and play fought, held hands crossing busy streets, and even slept slumped on each other's shoulders during summertime trips to Iwaizumi’s summer home. But not once has Oikawa opened his arms and let Hinata come closer of his own volition. For as long as they’ve known each other, it’s as if Oikawa has been fighting to keep him at arm’s length. Failure is feeling Hinata hiccup against his chest, fingernails digging into his arm. It only took him almost a year to get here, still plagued by the unfortunate fondness he cannot escape. 

“Tooru?” Hinata says. His voice is small, head tilted up to look at him. Only then does he realize his arms are shaking. 

“Don't cry. Please don’t cry,” he murmurs in reply. “I don’t like it when you cry.”

He squeezes his arms tighter, half in an attempt to quell the tremors, half hoping it’ll stop the sobs half caught in Hinata’s chest. Hinata tucks his face back against Oikawa’s chest, eyes squeezed tight in a moment of uncharacteristic silence like Oikawa has never seen. They stay like that for a while, waiting out the storm inside of each other, Hinata slowly moving to hug him back. The wind is cool against their skin, but Oikawa feels nothing but warmth even as Hinata’s tears begin to dry. 

Some time passes before Oikawa’s ears perk up to the sound of his name being called across the stream. He pulls away from Hinata just enough to see his mother at the riverbank, hands cupped over her mouth, with a slight smile gracing her lips as she waves them down. 

“Boys! We’re getting ready to leave!” she shouts. 

Hinata hears this time and wiggles out of Oikawa’s hold. Neither speak as they stand and make their way back towards the bridge, but somehow, their hands become intertwined. Oikawa can’t bear to make himself let go, even under the narrowed gaze of his sister, for he worries that if he does, he’ll never muster the courage to do it again. For that alone, he wishes he were more like Iwaizumi. Brave, uncaring in the face of uncertainty. But Iwaizumi is Iwaizumi and Oikawa is Oikawa, and Hinata still leans against him during the car ride home. That’s all Oikawa can stand amidst the twisting in his chest. 

—

When they get home, and Hinata’s returned to Ayame’s arms, Ritsuko sits down with Oikawa on his bed. He’s been silent ever since Hinata left, and for better or worse, his mother noticed immediately. With a soft smile, she runs her hand down Oikawa’s back and pulls him from his thoughts. 

“You care a lot about Shouyou, don’t you?” she says.

Oikawa turns his head away from her gaze, cheeks burning in their own admission. He isn’t sure what he could say to get across the weight in his chest that multiples when Hinata smiles and swells when he cries. He isn’t sure if he even knows the lengths at which his own heart will stretch to accommodate Hinata’s own fears.

His mother squeezes his shoulder. “You don’t have to explain. I understand.”

Oikawa chances a glance up at his mother. Ritsuko smiles at him, eyes soft despite the overwhelming weight that rests in the air between them. 

“Shouyou is lucky to have you as his friend,” she tells him. “And you’re lucky to have him too.”

“What’s the point of being his friend if I can't help him?” Oikawa says, the sound of his voice meek to his ears. 

Ritsuko hums, reaching up to comb her fingers through Oikawa’s hair. “Who says you aren’t helping him _by_ being his friend?” 

Oikawa doesn’t have an answer for that, but his mother doesn’t ask for one. She simply sits beside him, letting him rest his weight on her side, and combs the worries and tangles from his scalp. Oikawa doesn’t know how being Hinata’s friend could stop his dad from being so angry, but he’s never known his mother to be wrong. For that reason alone, he closes his eyes and trusts her with the hope that friendship will keep Hinata safe and sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: from "His father stops talking, a stiffened silence taking over the room." to "And he makes a wish." will contain hinatas terrible dad, abuse, and implied homophobia


	5. birthday bashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!!! this chapter gets pretty rough, so take caution again of the fic tags. i really love this fic so much. i hope you guys enjoy the chapter too! as much as you can, at least!  
> -mooks
> 
> —
> 
> HEY GUYS! this chapter took a lot to write but hell yeah it slaps! thank you so much for waiting and being patient with us, it means so much. i hope you guys enjoy!!!  
> -kj

Summer begins the moment June arrives, with the midday sun bringing the first sunburns of the year. Iwaizumi’s brown skin deepens without issue; Hinata’s explodes with freckles; Oikawa burns a cherry bright red all across his cheeks. It peels in time, leaving behind a warm glow that matches the honey coloured gleam whenever the sun shines in his eyes. Classes become near impossible to follow as the sun grows brighter and the air grows warmer. Hinata finds his focus shifting to the great outdoors, and counts the minutes before he can run free. 

Iwaizumi turns nine on a day so humid Hinata swears he’s swimming through the air. Ayame sends Hinata down the street with a gift wrapped in thin tissue paper and a smile, sunscreen still smeared on the back of his neck and not quite rubbed in. The whole world seems to be packed into Iwaizumi’s front yard when Hinata arrives. Laughter filters through the air, tinted by the odd shriek from one of Iwaizumi’s younger siblings. A few of his cousins recognize Hinata from time spent at the camp or the holidays and wave, but Hinata isn’t looking for them. Amidst all of the new and familiar faces, Hinata only has eyes for two kids, sitting cross legged in the garden.

Iwaizumi combs through the dirt with a shiny new spade, birthday cap hung loose around his head. He grins down at the earth, ignoring the rest of his party in favour of uprooting a few dandelions from their place among his mother’s flowers. Beside him, Oikawa blows bubbles from a heart shaped wand. The wind carries them towards Hinata, tiny spheres that pop when he reaches out to touch. Hinata giggles as he flicks the suds off his hands, loud enough that both Iwaizumi and Oikawa turn their heads to look at him.

“Finally! How long were you gonna take?” Oikawa exclaims. He blows a stream of bubbles up towards Hinata, which he ignores in favour of kneeling down in the dirt next to Iwaizumi.

“Happy birthday!” Hinata says with a grin so wide his cheeks almost hurt. “This is your present! It’s yours— open it!”

Iwaizumi drops the spade, face lighting up in pure joy. He reaches out to grab the gift, only to freeze, eyes focusing on something behind Hinata— or rather, someone.

“Hajime, stop opening your gifts!” Haruko scolds, no real menace in her voice. Hinata turns to see Iwaizumi’s mother beaming, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow as she plucks the present from Hinata’s hands. “I’ll put this with the rest of them, okay? No opening gifts until everyone is together— your father wants to take pictures!”

Iwaizumi groans, picking back up his spade. “I only opened _one,”_ he mumbles.

“You opened mine!” Oikawa says, chest puffed out in pride. “Shouyou, _I_ got him the gardening set.”

Haruko sets her hands on her hips. “Well, he’s not opening any more. Not until we have cake.”

“Cake?” Hinata says, rocking back and forth on his feet. “There’s cake?”

“There will be, if Hajime gets out of my garden and cuts it,” Haruko says, reaching down to ruffle Iwaizumi’s hands. “Come on, the sooner you boys wash up, the sooner we get to eat!”

“Cake!” Hinata shouts, jumping up and down. He grabs Oikawa by the arm in an attempt to pull him out of the garden. “Come on, come on!”

“Sheesh, I’m _going!”_ Oikawa whines. He blows a stream of bubbles up at Hinata’s face in retaliation, splattering him with soap. “Hajime, c’mon already!”

Iwaizumi finally sets down his tools and pushes up from the dirt, wiping the earth off of grass stained knees. He’s grinning from cheek to cheek as he takes off towards his house, not even stopping to kick off his shoes. Hinata follows in suit, still dragging Oikawa behind him. He can hear Iwaizumi’s mother calling after them, but her voice is distant compared to the bright laughter of his friends around him. They shove each other aside in an attempt to wash their hands, shoulders bumping in the cramped space that is Iwaizumi’s bathroom. No one bothers to dry, racing back out to the front lawn where Haruko has begun to herd family members around a table. On it rests the biggest cake Hinata’s ever seen, iced with the shape of a monster screeching with its mouth opened wide. The nine candles trail out of the creature's mouth, creating a trail of fire.

“Godzilla!?” Iwaizumi says, staring up at his mom. 

“Yes! Now blow out your candles before you get wax on the cake,” his father adds, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Hinata watches Iwaizumi blow out his candles with no small amount of awe, cheering as the flames vanish into a puff of smoke. Haruko is quick to swoop in with a knife, cutting into the cake before the rest of the family can swarm, working to pass out slices to each person around the table. Hinata’s slice is loaded with icing, split down the middle— half chocolate, half vanilla. Each bite smears across his cheeks, no matter how careful he tries to be. Iwaizumi is a similar sight, and only Oikawa seems to keep his face clear of cake and mess. 

Iwaizumi’s presents lay stacked in a makeshift pyramid at the end of the table, wobbling each time someone knocks against it. Hinata can see his balancing precariously at the top, waiting to be opened. The cake vanishes within minutes, leaving Hinata itching to see Iwaizumi’s face as he opens it. When Haruko announces it’s time to start, Hinata practically crawls onto the table to snatch his, shoving it directly into Iwaizumi’s awaiting hands. 

“Me first!” Hinata shouts, jumping up and down. “You already opened Tooru’s, so now it's my turn!”

Iwaizumi looks at the gift in his hand, grinning wildly. The wrapping paper crinkles in his hands as he squishes it, shaking the gift next to his ear. When there’s no sound to be heard, he tears into it, revealing soft felt and fluffy fabric. The rest falls, leaving Iwaizumi with a stuffed animal roughly the size of his head. Shaped like a cross between a dinosaur and a dragon, the off brand Godzilla plush is complete with glass beads for eyes and a bright felt flames on its tongue. Iwaizumi runs his hands up and down the spines on its back, face slack in awe. “Godzilla?”

“Tooru said you like him!” Hinata says. His stomach flutters watching Iwaizumi hug the stuffed toy close to his chest, burying his face along the spine. 

Iwaizumi nods. “‘Zilla’s the best.” His voice is muffled by the fabric, but even then Hinata can see the blush rise on his cheeks. “Thank you.” 

Hinata grins. “You're welcome!” 

Oikawa bumps Hinata’s shoulder. “I didn’t know _that’s_ why you asked,” he mumbles. “Good thing I told you, huh?”

“Yeah! Now Hajime gets all the Godzilla stuff!” Hinata giggles, throwing his hands in the air. “Hooray!”

A few of the grown ups laugh at Hinata’s enthusiasm, Haruko going as far to ruffle both his and Iwaizumi’s hair. “Alright, rascals. I know you like your Godzilla, but you gotta open your other stuff too.”

Even as Iwaizumi opens the rest of his gifts— most of them assorted clothes and shoes for an ever growing boy— he keeps the plushie close to his chest. Hinata’s heart swells at the sight of the monster's head tucked under Iwaizumi’s chin, nestled close to his heart. With icing on his tongue and a heart lighter than cotton candy, Hinata revels in the sweetness of the moment and company. 

“Here, take this,” Iwaizumi says after all of his presents have been opened and the adults have scattered around the yard, shoving a brand new toy car into Hinata’s hand. “I wanna see if it’ll race down the gutter.”

Hinata marvels at the tiny car in all of its construction, much shinier than any toy he’s ever owned. Oikawa drives his up the side of Iwaizumi’s house, maneuvering around the creeping vine that threatens to annex the space beyond its trellis. Hinata climbs on top of one of the planters to reach the downspout, laughing at the thin stream of water that trickles out. Gravity and water carries the car all the way down to the earth, sending it flying into the air once it reaches the grass. Iwaizumi bolts after it, skidding through the grass with Godzilla safely pinned under one arm. 

As the afternoon goes on, Iwaizumi’s extended family begins to pack up and leave with well wishes and full body hugs. Iwaizumi groans through them all, wrinkling his nose when an aunt presses a kiss to his cheek. The mark of red lipstick doesn't quite fade, no matter how hard he tries to scrub it off. The three of them continue to play in the grass until they’re the only ones left, poking each other's sides and enjoying the last scraps of cake. When Hinata spots Ayame walking down the road, he nearly runs to hide, not yet wanting to head home for the night. 

“Happy birthday, Hajime!” Ayame calls out, hands stuffed in the pockets of her apron. “Did you boys have fun today?”

“Oh they sure did,” Haruko tells her with a laugh. She bumps Ayame’s shoulder. “Hajime hasn’t let go of that stuffed animal since he got his hands on it.”

“Mama,” Hinata interrupts, fisting the grass with both hands. “Do I have to go home? I thought you said I could stay ‘till bedtime!”

Ayame’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Mm, your father wants you back now. You know how he gets.” She bends down to rub Hinata’s shoulder. “He’s just worried. He just misses you, that’s all.”

“But _Mama…”_ Hinata whines, tearing the grass up. “I don’t wanna see Papa, it’s Hajime’s birthday!” 

“I know, sweetheart, but there's always tomorrow!” she assures him, her voice filled with well meaning cheer that only brings Hinata’s tears closer to the surface. “Besides, you and Tooru have your birthdays coming up soon. There’s plenty more parties, right?”

Hinata sniffs. “I guess,” he mumbles. He looks back over at Iwaizumi and Oikawa, who sit in awkward silence watching them. He tangles his hand with his mother’s and stands, giving his friends a wave. Iwaizumi waves back with the Godzilla plush in hand, punching Oikawa's side to get him to do the same. His gut twists as they make their way back home, away from both his friends and the safety of Iwaizumi’s front lawn. Ayame squeezes his hand as they approach their home, and together, they return to the brick and mortar cage of his father’s creation.

—

Hinata's birthday begins with the ringing sound of silence. There's no fanfare or cheers, no warmth held in bright smiles and sunshine. Hinata wakes up, instead, to the sight of storm clouds outside of his bedroom window. It's apparent, too, the storm circling inside the place he calls home as he tiptoes down the stairwell to the kitchen. His mother awaits with tired eyes, standing by the stove as the delicious smell of omelettes, with all of her secret wonderful spices, wafts from the pan. Despite his best efforts to stay quiet, the house creaks around him, making his mother's head turn towards the sound. Her eyes immediately soften as she sees him, the smile that follows one that, in Hinata's mind, seems to pull painfully at the sides of her mouth.

"Shouyou," she says, voice hardly louder than a whisper, enticing him forward with her arms open. Hinata pads over, immediately throwing his arms around her as she pulls him close. "Do you know what day it is today? It's a very special day, isn't it?"

Hinata looks up at her with eyes wide, beaming. "It's my birthday!" he shouts with excitement. His words ring throughout the kitchen, throughout an echo chamber of hardwood floors and tiled walls, before Ayame quietly shushes him.

"That's right, it is," she says, leaning down to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Shouyou."

Hinata bounces in place as Ayame lets him go, standing back upright to continue cooking. "Am I gonna have a party? Like Hajime did?" he asks. "Am I gonna get lots of presents? Are granny and grandpa gonna come visit?"

Ayame tenses up, and Hinata watches as her knuckles go white with how hard she clenches her fist. Albeit a bit confused, he tries to force his attention elsewhere as Ayame collects her words. "Shouyou, I…" A shaky breath leaves her lips. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but your father isn't feeling well today. He called out sick and needs his rest, so we won't be able to celebrate today."

Hinata's heart sinks as her words seep into his skin. "But— but after Hajime's birthday you said—" he stammers, tears welling up in his eyes.

Ayame turns off the burner and drops back down to his level, hands resting on his shoulders. "Sweetie, please understand. Your father, he…" She loses her words. Hinata thinks, if he tried really hard, he could see all kinds of them spinning around in her evasive gaze.

"Can't I still go outside? Can't I at least go see Hajime? And Tooru?" he pleads. _"Please?"_

"Shouyou—"

Thunder booms outside, startling them both as they turn their attention to the staircase, watching as his father descends. The storm swirls around them, Ayame immediately straightening up as he makes his way to the coffee pot. Hinata grips the edge of her apron as she puts a hand on his head.

"How are you feeling, dear?" Ayame asks. Hinata can feel her hand trembling. It makes his throat close up. 

"Like crap," Hinata's father grunts. His voice is hoarse and nasally, his eyes and nose red. "Breakfast ready yet?"

"I just finished cooking yours," Ayame answers, small and timid. “I thought we could all eat breakfast together, though, so if you wait—”

“Why would I wait?” he snaps. 

Ayame pulls Hinata close to her thigh. “Well, I— you know, it’s Shouyou’s birthday and all—”

His father groans— a dagger into Hinata's heart. “Whatever. Keep cooking then. How soon before you’re done?”

Ayame begins to backtrack, shaking her head. “Oh, you can eat alone, I— it’s going to be fifteen minutes, I just thought—”

 _“Fifteen minutes?”_ His father slams the coffee pot onto the counter. “I don’t have time for this— give me that.”

Hinata jerks away from his mother’s side as she quickly plates the omelette. Hinata’s father grabs it from her, storming to the table without another word. Hinata stays silent in shock for a moment, but recovers quickly enough to tug on his mother’s apron. 

“Can I have some—”

His father’s fist hits the table with a _bang._ “God dammit, Ayame, would you shut him up?”

Hinata startles. Any goodwill he had is squandered by his father’s tone, abrasive and cruel. Though his mother reaches to hold a hand to Hinata’s shoulder, Hinata can’t help but deflate. 

“Mama?” he whispers, looking back up at her.

“It’s okay. Papa just needs some quiet, okay?” she says, voice so quiet Hinata struggles to hear. When he tugs on her apron again, she makes no move to respond, just smiling that same, small smile down at him.

Breakfast is a silent affair, even after his father leaves to lounge on the couch. Ayame keeps him from speaking, urging him to eat the rest of his eggs despite his appetite being all but gone. He pushes them around his plate, only finishing them after his mother has left and begun washing the dishes. 

“Can I go see Hajime and Tooru now?” Hinata says, not bothering to lower his voice now that his father has left the room. He still groans, grumbling all the way down the hall.

“I’m not having you go out in the rain, and I’m not having _them_ over in this house.”

“But—”

“Ayame, did I not tell you to get him to _shut up?”_ he snaps. Hinata falls silent, gaping from behind the wall leading to their living room. His mother fusses, apologizing over the sounds of running water. 

“I’ll be done in just a moment, then we can play, okay?” she whispers with a glance over her shoulder. “Mama just needs to finish the dishes.”

Disappointment wells in Hinata’s chest. He sits down onto the kitchen floor and watches Ayame in her panic induced haze of cleaning, waiting for the moment that either her or his father announces that this is all just a big misunderstanding. He’s left sitting there for half an hour, rolling around on the linoleum, until the front doorbell rings. Before his father manages to start shouting, Hinata dashes to open it, revealing the grinning faces of his two best friends. 

“Happy birthday!” they cheer, tackling Hinata the second he steps out of the door. Oikawa nearly drops the present he’s holding as Hinata stumbles, letting out a small laugh of surprise. Both he and Iwaizumi hold well wrapped boxes tight to their chest, slightly wrinkled from their excitement but with as much care as any present Hinata has ever seen. 

“Why didn’t you come meet us outside?” Oikawa asks. “We _waited.”_

True to his word, both Iwaizumi and Oikawa are soaked, their shirts spattered with water despite the umbrellas at their sides. Still, they both smile, unfettered by the weather or Hinata’s lateness. It only serves to deepen the hurt in Hinata’s chest. Tears well up in his eyes until he can’t contain them any longer, sniffling and rubbing away the few that manage to slip down his cheeks.

“P-Papa says I can’t go outside ‘cause it’s raining, ‘nd you’re not allowed to come over,” Hinata says between sobs. “And— and— I wanted to have a party for my birthday but I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t have a party?” Iwaizumi asks him, concern visible on his face. “You can come over to my house. We can have a party there.”

“Ayame! Close the damn door and get him inside already!” his father booms, voice shaking the foyer floor. Hinata whimpers, holding back a stream of tears as Iwaizumi rushes forwards to grab the door. His mother has already rushed down from the kitchen to pry open the door, forcing a smile that can hardly stick to her face.

“I- I’m sorry boys. Tomorrow, okay? Shouyou’s dad needs him here, okay?” She squeezes Hinata’s shoulder, her own hand trembling. 

Oikawa shrinks behind Iwaizumi. “Can… can we at least give you presents?” He raises his box up, the wrapping paper now shaped by the indents of his fingers.

Hinata reaches out, only to hesitate. Looking up to Ayame, he waits for her to nod before taking both boxes from his friends, still forcing tears from his eyes. The presents wobble in his arms as he tries to wave them goodbye without letting them hit the floor, all while taking a step back into the confines of a house much smaller than the world they’ve created outside. Hinata savours the fleeting moment before the faces of his friends disappear, distraught pooling in their frowns as the door slams shut.

“Shouyou,” Ayame whispers to him, kneeling down to his level. “Why don't you go to your room and open your presents? I'll come get you at lunchtime, okay? I'll make your favorite food for you.”

Hinata can't bring himself to speak, a rock lodged in his throat as thunder rumbles outside. He holds the presents closer to his chest, nodding as he pads off up the stairs and too his bedroom. He looks back only once to see his mother's expression crumble into an emotion he's seen on her many times before. Her eyebrows furrow, eyes squinting as her lips grow thin, bottom lip trembling. She always seems to wear it when she doesn't think Hinata's looking. But he knows. 

(Later, when he's smarter and knows more words, he can place it— guilt.)

Hinata is careful as he closes his bedroom door, trying not to make a sound, lest he gets yelled at again. Not bothering to turn on the lights, he walks over to his bed and flops down, presents still clutched tight. There’s a small lamp on his night table that he uses when he can’t sleep, flicking it on. It provides just enough light for him to be able to inspect the presents his best friends brought.

One present is wrapped haphazardly, the tape nearly coming off in several places. The wrapping paper design itself is what Hinata would call _messy,_ with _Happy Birthday!_ plastered all over it along with party hats and cartoon dinosaurs. It’s not a box, but rather squishy and lumpy. The other is much more neat, a fully wrapped box with the simple repeating design of _Happy Birthday!_ in rainbow colors, completed with a pink ribbon tied into a bow at the top.

 _My only two presents,_ Hinata can’t help but think, and the floodgates open once again.

Hinata sobs as quietly as he can, chest painfully tight as his breaths hiccup out of his throat. He desperately shoves his little palms against his eyes to try and wipe his tears away, but each attempt only seems to bring upon more and more pain. His mind won’t be quiet— it constantly remembers, thinks back to Iwaizumi’s party, with all of his friends and family and his many, many presents. He remembers Christmas, when Iwaizumi’s house was full and everyone was happy.

 _Why?_ his mind cries out. _Why can’t that be me?!_

Hinata pushes his face into his pillows, tiny hands fisting his blanket, curling up in an attempt to drive out the pain.

 _It’s unfair!_ his mind sobs. _It’s so unfair! I want a party! I want friends! I want a bunch of presents! It’s my birthday, why can’t it be fun?! Why can’t I have fun?!_

He doesn’t understand, can’t comprehend. He can only cry, powerlessly envious of what his best friends have that he doesn’t. 

He stays like that for what seems like hours, sobs eventually calming down to sniffles. As his heart rate slows back to normal, he pushes himself up, eyes swollen and hurting, mind bogged down and exhausted from the exertion of crying so hard. He looks back over to the presents before sitting up entirely and reaching for them.

He opens up the lumpy one first, tearing the wrapping paper apart. It’s relieving, almost, the feeling of tearing, the ripping sound it makes. Underneath all the paper is something that brings the tears back— a plush otter, half the size of his arm. He hugs it close to his chest, squeezing it in comfort. He keeps a strong grip on it as he opens up the other present, first sliding off the bow and then tearing off the paper.

Inside the box is, curiously, another box with an envelope on top of it. In scrawled lettering, it reads _open the box first!_ on the front. Eyebrows furrowed, Hinata sets the plush otter down and slides out the other box, letting the first fall onto the floor. Slowly, he opens up the cover, and gapes at what he sees— a remote controlled car. It’s smaller than the ones Oikawa and Iwaizumi had at Christmas, and a lot more compact. He lets out a small yell in excitement, before instantly clamping his hand over his mouth. He listens for one, two, three seconds for any sounds of footsteps, and lets himself relax when none come.

Grinning ear to ear, Hinata takes out the car and examines it— it has wheels bigger than the size of its body, colored black with orange decals. All prior sadness is forgotten with the happiness of receiving such a big gift, kicking his legs excitedly as he imagines the three of them— himself, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi racing their cars down the sidewalk, seeing whose is the fastest, who will win. In his imagination, his car speeds past the other two. Their streetside formula one race would draw a crowd from all of the neighbourhood. The announcer would comment that since his car is the smallest, it’s the fastest, and praise it for clearly outspeeding the other two. Oikawa would pout and whine and Iwaizumi would huff in that way of his, before grinning at Hinata, patting his head and praising him for winning the first prize— a _huge_ golden trophy marked with his name, _double_ the size of his head.

A thump downstairs snaps Hinata out of his little world, tugs him back down to reality. He carefully sets the car back into the box, sliding it under his bed for safekeeping, to know where it is when he needs it. His eyes fall back onto the envelope. He figures, since he opened the box, it’s time to open it up. He takes no caution in ripping open the envelope itself, pulling out a card.

The card itself has a little cartoon drawing of a kid looking up at a shooting star, with _Wishing you a Happy Birthday!_ lettered in white lettering against a starry sky. A smile makes its way back pushing up his cheeks as he opens it, eyes flitting over the cliché text, and down to the signatures of his friends and their parents. Around the page are tiny notes left for him, some of the handwriting difficult for him to read.

_Happy birthday, Shouyou! I hope you have a wonderful birthday. - Iwaizumi Haruko_

_Happy 7th birthday, Shouyou! You’re on your way to being a big boy! - Oikawa Ritsuko_

There’s a few other notes scribbled down as he scans the page, heart warming with all of the birthday wishes sent his way. Finally, his eyes settle on the two he’s been looking for.

_Happy birthday! I hope you can count to 1000 now! I’m up to 2000! - Oikawa Tooru_

_Happy birthday, Shouyou. Oikawa picked out the otter. It’s his favorite animal. He didn’t want me to tell you, but I am anyway. Hope you like the car. - Iwaizumi Hajime_

Hinata squeezes the stuffed otter tight, squeezing his eyes shut. He wants to see his friends. He wants to see them so bad. He wants to run up to them and tell them thank you and play with the cars together. He wants to tell Oikawa that he didn’t know otters were his favorite animal, that crows are his and he wants to give him a crow plushie for his birthday.

Gone are the feelings of jealousy replaced with the sheer antsiness that comes with being unable to move when you want to run. Gone are the wishes to have lots of presents and friends when he has _these_ presents and his _best_ friends. He opens his eyes, looks at the otter, its beady eyes staring back at him. He thinks of Oikawa, of his smile and soft brown hair and the way he whines at Iwaizumi whenever he loses at a game. He thinks and thinks and thinks and wants and wants and wants until he can barely take it.

He looks to the window next to his bed, and an idea forms. But his mom calls for him for lunch, and any courage built up is lost as he places the otter on his bed and makes his way downstairs.

He can wait until tomorrow.

—

The summer heats back up again in the following days, heavy sunshine draping their entire street in near unbearable warmth. Hinata is freed from the confines of his home, allowed to reenter a world where the traces of rain have already vanished. Hinata’s sadness still clings to his skin, the sun unable to burn away the reminder of the things he wasn’t allowed. A celebration. A welcoming home. A place for his friends. Somewhere safe to rest his eyes without fear of his mother’s cries haunting his sleep.

Being outside brings small reliefs in the form of new bruises among the old. Scrapes on his knees from running too fast are much preferred to those made within his own house. Eventually, they all fade together, until Hinata can’t quite remember which are from climbing trees, and which are from his father. His mother always told him he bruises like a peach. 

On a day where Oikawa is off at the dentist, Iwaizumi and Hinata plant themselves on Iwaizumi’s lawn with a popsicle each. Oikawa had cried as he left, complaining of a toothache likely caused from the very same thing. As bad as Hinata feels for him, the sharp taste of sugar on his tongue soothes any worry that he might end up with the same cavities. After all, _he_ remembers to brush his teeth. Or at least, his mother makes him.

The delightful crunch of the popsicle as Hinata bites down on it is the only sound heard. He and Iwaizumi are both content in this quiet moment, sated by the food in front of them. Every so often, Iwaizumi’s eyes trail away from the grass to stare at Hinata, not speaking, just watching. It doesn’t bug Hinata so much as it intrigues him. Iwaizumi has always been the more silent one in their group, so his silence isn’t strange, but his gaze feels oddly heavy. Popping the stick from his mouth as he finishes the treat, Hinata turns to face him, cocking his head.

“Whatcha thinking?” he asks.

Iwaizumi huffs in response, taking a moment to stare back at the grass before speaking. “You get hurt a lot,” he says. “Why are you always hurt?”

Hinata’s reaction is immediate as he freezes in place. His eyes break away from Iwaizumi, turning his gaze back towards the enveloping darkness of the asphalt in front of them. Heat radiates from the black tar, swirling in incomprehensible shapes that are no easier to understand than their predicament. Knees pulled up to his chest, Hinata pauses before finally speaking.

“Papa gets angry a lot,” he mumbles, eyes unfocused in the hypnotic haze of heat. “He’s been getting angry more again.”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Your dad hurts you?” he asks, blunt words softened by the concern his tone takes. Regardless, the question makes Hinata retract, bringing his arms around his legs and squeezing tight. Unable to form the necessary words, he simply nods. 

Iwaizumi stares at him. “Why would he do that?” 

Hinata shrugs, the movement restrained by his own arms. “I dunno,” he responds, softer than a whisper. “He hurts Mama too, a lot more than me. I don’t get it. He’s… bad.” He curls in on himself. “Hajime, your papa doesn’t hurt you, right? Tooru’s too?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi affirms.

Hinata’s voice grows smaller. “I thought everyone’s was like that.”

Iwaizumi’s voice grows quieter in return. “They aren’t. Not any of my friend’s dads, or Tooru’s friends’ dads.”

Hinata’s lips begin to tremble. “Why is _my_ papa different?” he wonders, voice shaking. “Why is _my_ papa bad?”

At the sight of tears welling up in Hinata’s eyes, Iwaizumi’s hands clench into fists. His chest tightens in a familiar sense— the same way it did when the kids on the playground pushed Hinata to the ground, the same way it did when Fujiwara made him cry. Anger, frustration. A burning in his throat. A desire to protect.

Iwaizumi turns fully to Hinata, placing his hands on his shoulders and turning him to look his way. Hinata blinks in surprise at the sudden movement, mouth open slightly.

“Shouyou,” he says, serious. “No matter what ever happens, I promise, I’ll get stronger. And I’ll protect you. Always.”

“Ha—” Hinata’s voice catches in his throat, tears escaping down his cheeks. “Haji—”

“I know— I know I can’t do anything right now. Adults are… big. And scary. But!” Iwaizumi’s grip on Hinata’s arms tightens. “But! When I’m older and I’m big and scary, I’ll protect you! From anyone that hurts you! Your dad, too! I promise on— on my life!”

And Hinata laughs through the tears, unwinds himself and throws his arms around Iwaizumi. “You sound—” he hiccups. “You sound like a superhero, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi smiles wide, hugging Hinata tighter. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll be your superhero, Shouyou. No matter what.”

He promises himself. No matter what.

—

Summer crests with the arrival of Oikawa’s ninth birthday. With Hinata’s father safely away on a business trip in another prefecture, there’s nothing to stop him from skipping over to Oikawa’s, a gift bag in hand. Only Iwaizumi has arrived before him, sitting on the kitchen floor while Oikawa and his mother fret over the decorations. Streamers dance from the ceiling, twisting midair as they fall in a perfect arch over Hinata’s head. Oikawa catches it before it hits the floor and sticks it to the fridge, practically vibrating as he does so. But amidst the excitement bleeding from his smile into Hinata, Hinata finds himself mourning something that could’ve been, that will never be. The streamers ripple with the wind blowing from an open window, and Hinata squanders that longing in favour of smiling wider. 

“Happy birthday, Tooru!” he shouts, shoving the gift forwards into Oikawa’s chest. Caught off guard, Oikawa stumbles backwards, grabbing the present a second before it falls to the ground.

“Mom!” he shouts, despite his mother being mere steps away. “Can I open it?”

“Indoor voice, Tooru. And no, you need to wait for the rest of your school friends,” she chides, stepping down from a stool. “They’ll be arriving soon, won’t they? You should get ready to greet them all.”

Oikawa only pouts for a second before becoming distracted by the prospect of people arriving. He dashes off to the front door, shouting nonsensical words that probably mean for Iwaizumi and Hinata to follow them. Hinata can only pause, held in place by one mention of something he didn’t expect. 

Of course he knew Oikawa had friends at school— he’s met them before, on the playground when Oikawa grew bored with playing pretend. Hinata has never had any reason to deal with the older kids, thus leaving Oikawa's friends a mystery to him entirely. Perhaps, it was only Hinata’s classmates that were as mean as they were. After all, why would Oikawa befriend people who weren’t kind?

With a huff, Iwaizumi pulls himself up off of the floor, reaching over the counter to grab a cookie. He snaps it in half, passing it to Hinata. “Tooru’s gonna eat them all. He ate _half_ of them already.”

Hinata cracks a smile and shoves the cookie into his mouth, whole. Chocolate erupts on his tongue, creamy and rich. Ritsuko’s baking is a coveted prize among the three friends, and with Oikawa’s birthday afloat, treats are everywhere. Hinata and Iwaizumi grab four more cookies between the two of them before dashing into the living room to catch up with Oikawa, who has already set Hinata’s gift bag with the rest of his gifts. The pile isn’t nearly as large as Iwaizumi’s was yet, sporting three other boxes besides Hinata’s gift. Oikawa hardly glances at the gifts. Instead, he presses his nose to the windows, hopping up and down as he tries to peer out between the blinds.

“What are you doing?” Iwaizumi asks, pushing Oikawa’s head down. Oikawa cackles, ducking under his arm before running behind Hinata.

“I’m waiting for everyone to get here! Y’know, Ren and Hideki and Shouji— oh, and Daisuke too! We can’t have the party without _him.”_ Oikawa knocks his shoulder against Hinata’s, grinning even wider. “It’s gonna be _so_ fun, Mom even said we could play video games later!”

Hinata’s apprehension vanishes in an instant. “Video games?” he asks, rocking back and forth on his heels. Video games are almost exclusively reserved for rainy days when Hinata is allowed to visit Oikawa’s house. To play them now, on a sunny day, is as much a treat as the chocolate still melting on his tongue. Hinata grabs onto Oikawa’s arm and squeals, only encouraged by Oikawa’s own energy. 

Oikawa’s friends arrive in a flurry of shouts and excitement. Oikawa races around the house to show them around, with Iwaizumi and Hinata trailing behind, already acquainted with every nook and cranny. After a round of hasty introductions, Hinata learns each of their names only to promptly forget them. Judging by the way each of his friends runs past him, he’s not sure they bothered to learn his either. 

The walls of Oikawa’s kitchen threaten to burst with the noise they contain. Hinata manages to laugh at the sight of Oikawa whining and clapping whenever things go his way. Seated at the head of the table, with a paper birthday hat on his head, Oikawa looks as pampered as the prince he often acts like. To Hinata’s dismay, he’s sat further away, tucked next to Iwaizumi at the corner of the table while the rest of Oikawa’s friends crowd around him. 

“What are we doing?” Hinata asks Iwaizumi, trying to make himself heard over the raucous. His voice projects loud enough that it isn’t a struggle, but no one else looks over when he speaks, too distracted by the story Oikawa is telling.

“Waiting for food, I think? Tooru’s mom wants us to eat _vegetables_ before we get cake,” Iwaizumi tells him. Hinata wrinkles his nose, hoping that there won’t be any green peppers on his plate. Sensing his disgust, Iwaizumi passes him another half of a cookie, this time, vanilla. Hinata nibbles on the icing, letting the sugar melt on his tongue and soothe the strange cocktail of emotions swirling inside of his chest.

Sometimes, feelings are too hard to name. On days like that, where Hinata can’t sit still, can’t sleep, can’t learn, he searches out sweetness in hopes that it’ll draw his mind away from what he can only call _too much._ Iwaizumi bumps shoulders with him, garnering his attention. With a toothy smile that can only mean one thing, Iwaizumi kicks Oikawa from under the table until his attention is drawn away from the other kids.

“What?” Oikawa asks, his party hat falling slightly. Iwaizumi holds out the uneaten half of the cookie, stretching over the table to wave it in his face. When Oikawa reaches out to take it, Iwaizumi falls back, shoving it into his own mouth with a gleeful smile.

“Hajime!” Oikawa shrieks, slamming his hands down onto the table. “That’s my favourite flavour!”

Iwaizumi guffaws around the cookie, his chipmunked cheeks almost as funny as Oikawa’s disdain. Hinata giggles, kicking his legs against the chair. The _thump thump_ of his heels hitting the wood is the perfect percussion to the melodies of their laughter, even as the other kids snicker behind their hands.

Ritsuko rounds the corner with a plate full of freshly cut fruits and veggies, an exasperated Yuuko on her heels carrying juice boxes in her arms. She ruffles Oikawa’s hair before disappearing back into the kitchen. Hinata is happy to ignore the peppers and crunch down on the carrot slices, following the conversation in front of him. Every time he speaks up, his voice is drowned out by someone else, until eventually he becomes a silent participant, fighting the part of him that says his voice shouldn’t be heard. Oikawa’s attention flits around the room, hardly ever staying on one thing too long. At the very least, _he’s_ happy, in a way Hinata could never be on his birthday. 

Hinata rests his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Cookies?” he asks him, pushing around the carrots on his paper plate. 

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “That was the last one I took. I think we gotta wait for cake.”

As if on cue, Ritsuko saunters in, balancing a huge cake in her arms. Behind her, Oikawa’s father captures the scene on video, camcorder held to one eye and fixed on Oikawa’s face of delight. They set the cake down in front of Oikawa, all nine candles flickering under the adoring eyes of every kid at the table. Oikawa basks in the halo of warm light cast across his face, brown eyes gleaming with all of the depths of rich garden earth.

“Alright boys, one, two three!” Ritsuko says, waving over Yuuko from inside the kitchen. With that, the room erupts into song, singing to a gleeful Oikawa. As the song comes to an end, Oikawa leans forwards, closing his eyes for a moment to whisper a wish into the flames. With a deep inhale, he fills his lungs with air, exhaling with a gust of air that extinguishes all of the candles in one swoop.

“Happy birthday!” Hinata shouts over the cheers and clapping, ignoring the stares he gets when he slams his hands onto the table. Oikawa offers him a flash of a smile before digging into the cake with the knife bestowed upon him. Though the slices he cuts aren’t always the neatest, the cake is devoured without complaint. Once again, Ritsuko’s baking renders the room speechless. Each bite Hinata takes is a jump into sweet sugary heaven.

As the cake disappears into their stomachs, the chatter starts up again. Oikawa turns more and more often to stare at his pile of presents, entranced in the way all kids are when gifts come into the mix. It isn’t until the last plate has been cleared that Ritsuko begins piling them onto the table.

“Okay, Tooru, open the cards first!” his mother reminds him. Oikawa tears into the cards of each present, shoving his nose into the paper to read it before tossing them aside. Awe and envy congeal in Hinata’s stomach as Oikawa opens Lego sets, action figures, and science kits, each toy better than the last. If Hinata could have even half of his share, he’d be content. He’d be content to even have a birthday where friends sat around the table, where his mother could smile without holding back tears. For now, all Hinata wants is for Oikawa’s grin to swallow him whole, to engulf any other emotion but glee. 

Oikawa reaches into the pile to grab a box smaller than the rest, wrapped with the neatest corners of them all. He plucks the tiny tag from the corner, opening it to read the message.

“Love, Mom and Dad,” Oikawa says with a gentle smile, tucking the card to the side. He plucks off the tape holding the edges together and begins to unravel the gift, fold by fold, until he’s met with the brightly covered title of a video game in his hands.

 _“Mario Kart?”_ Oikawa exclaims, holding up the package to the light as if to reveal a secret message. He jumps out of his chair, standing to turn and face his parents. “You got me _Mario Kart?”_

“Your father said you really wanted it,” Ritsuko tells him, pressing a hand to her cheek. “Is that the right game?”

“Yes, of course it is!” Oikawa shouts, hugging the gift to his chest. “Can we play it right now? We have enough controllers— we can get a bunch of people together!”

“The rest of your presents, Tooru,” his father reminds him while stifling a chuckle. _“Mario Kart_ can wait.”

Oikawa sets the video game down on the top of all of his gifts, making sure it’s within his line of sight before turning to the rest of his presents. There’s only two more— a delicately wrapped box from his grandparents who couldn’t make it, and Hinata’s gift bag. Hinata holds his breath as Oikawa opens the former and bites his nails as he turns to his gift— the best for last.

“Shouyou, this one’s yours, right?” he asks, holding up the slightly wrinkled gift bag. Hinata nods so quickly that his hair flops over one eye, nearly dizzy with excitement. Oikawa pulls open the bag and tosses aside the tissue paper that shrouds the inside. It drifts to the pile of discarded trash beside him, slow as he pulls out the pop-out card from within. He opens it slowly, giggling at the distorted tune it plays, and holds out the gift card Hinata’s mother picked up from the game store.

“What’s this?” he asks, turning to his mom.

“It’s a gift card, sweetie. You can buy another video game with it,” Ritsuko explains.

Hinata huffs as Oikawa stares at the piece of plastic with awe. “The _real_ present is at the bottom!” he tells him.

Oikawa sticks his head into the bag to fish out the folded piece of paper at the bottom. The corners, held together with stickers, pop open without a fight to reveal the picture inside. All of Oikawa’s friends lean in, wide eyed as they inspect the crayon drawing Hinata had made.

“That’s you!” Hinata says, leaning over the table to point to the scribble of brown hair that vaguely resembles Oikawa. “And that’s Hajime, and that's me! And we’re all at the camp, and those are our otters, like the one you got me! We’re _all_ friends!”

Oikawa smiles, somewhat lopsided, only to be started by a jab to the ribs from one of his other friends. _“That’s_ the real present? A drawing?”

Oikawa is quick to tuck the picture close to his chest, cheeks flushing red. “I— t-the gift card was the present.”

“No! It’s the drawing!” Hinata tries to explain, only for his voice to be drowned out with by the scrape of chairs.

“Come _on,_ Tooru, let’s play with a _real_ gift. What drawing is better than _Mario Kart?”_ another one of his school friends boasts. 

“Play nice, boys,” Ritsuko warns. She places her hands on her hips and nudges Oikawa’s shoulder. “What do we say when people get us gifts?”

“Thank you, Shouyou,” Oikawa mumbles, still clutching the drawing to his chest. Eyes burn around him, the words passing over Hinata as his lip trembles. Oikawa glances up, only to be met with Iwaizumi’s harsh, protective scowl, and quickly looks away. “A-anyway! Let’s go play _Mario Kart!”_

The rush of kids towards the living room draws everyone’s attention away from Hinata back at the table. Now empty, the kitchen holds little sound beside Hinata’s small sniffles. Most everyone has left— Ritsuko long since dragged away to set up the game console and watch over the largest group of kids. Only Iwaizumi waits for Hinata to gather himself. He rests a hand on Hinata’s shoulder, tugging on his shirt to pull Hinata away from his moment of pity.

“Tooru isn’t upset with you. He just wants to fit in,” Iwaizumi tells him. 

Hinata looks up from the table, blinking away the tears before they form. “Y-you think so?”

Iwaizumi nods. “C’mon— you still get to play games with the rest of them. He wants you there, too.”

Hinata rubs his nose and nods, pulling himself upright. Together, they make their way into the busy living room where everyone sits, piled on the couch and floor. There aren’t enough controllers for everyone, but those playing sit at the front, staring up at the brightly coloured screen with wonder. The moment Iwaizumi enters, Oikawa whips his head around, waving a hand in the air.

“Hajime! I saved you one!” he shouts, holding out the controller. Hinata follows Iwaizumi, not yet ready to leave his side. There’s hardly room for him to squeeze between the other kids and still see the TV, but Hinata’s small body manages to squish between them enough to see a sliver of the screen. The colours swarm together in a hypnotic mix of blues and green, the music filling the room with a backdrop for the cacophony of voices. 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa race alongside two others, through cow patches and fields, racetracks and malls. Neither wins the match, each losing to one of the other boys or bots, but the outcome does nothing to dampen Oikawa’s look of total excitement. The other kids reach forward in the hopes that they’ll trade off the controllers with one of them. Hinata does much the same, offering a pleading look to both Oikawa and Iwaizumi amidst the rest of the raucous. Oikawa ignores him, attention caught by a slice of cake that makes a great trade for his place in the game. He’s lucky that Iwaizumi isn’t so easily swayed, passing Hinata the controller with a smile.

“Do you know how to play?” Iwaizumi asks him as one of the guests flicks through the main menu and selects a race. Hinata shakes his head. “Well, you use _this_ button to go forwards and _this_ joystick to steer. And if you want to use a powerup, you press this, here.”

Iwaizumi wraps his hands around Hinata’s to show him the controls, helping him select a character and go through the motions of setting up. When the race starts, it takes all of Hinata’s focus just to stay on the track. His car veers between tracks, smacking into obstacles and walls with little regard for what objects and good and what are bad. Hinata doesn’t even cross the finish line on the first race— a feat that every other player makes without issue. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it next time,” Iwaizumi tells him as the second race loads up. “Look, this one you can go on the arrows to speed up.”

Sure enough, Hinata manages the second race much better than the fist, beating out a few of the computer generated players. He never comes anywhere close to the other players in rankings, but he doesn’t mind. Iwaizumi cheers each time he finishes a lap, knocking his shoulders and ruffling his hair. It’s a welcome distraction from the kids behind them who snicker, their laughter less joyous, more mean. 

Just as the match ends, the front door swings open, revealing a grinning Haruko with her arms wrapped around a cardboard box. “Hey guys!” she shouts, making her way over to Iwaizumi. “You playing the video games?”

“It’s _Mario Kart,_ mom,” Iwaizumi tells her with a huff. “I don’t have to go, do I?”

“Course not, I just wanted to stop by and bring an extra present for the birthday boy.”

Oikawa races over to her, hugging Haruko’s leg. “What’d you get, what’d you get!”

Haruko heaves the box onto the ground where it lands with a heavy thud. Oikawa sticks his head inside before she even gets the chance to announce its contents. 

“Popsicles and ice cream sandwiches!” she exclaims, laughing as Oikawa reappears with a treat in a pink wrapper. “C’mon, they’re for all of you!”

Oikawa tosses a popsicle to Iwaizumi, who in turn passes it to Hinata before catching another. The rush of cold sugar on Hinata’s tongue soothes the growing anxiety. As much as he tries, the other kids’ snickers have grown too loud, to the point where Hinata is unable to ignore the way his stomach churns. He leans further into Iwaizumi’s shoulder in the hope that it could offer some kind of solace. 

Haruko gives him and Iwaizumi a wave before vanishing back into the kitchen with the other adults. Much like cake, the popsicles bring a momentary respite from the ear splitting chatter. Oikawa’s school friends avert their eyes, too busy devouring their treats to pay attention to anything Hinata does. For the most part, he mainly rocks back and forth, savouring the fruity aftertaste of the popsicle on his tongue. He even gets to switch flavours with Iwaizumi for a taste of the citrusy flavour he has. One of the other kids makes a face as they trade. It’s not Hinata’s fault their friends won’t share.

Once the popsicles are finished, the games start up again as the rest of the kids take their turns. Hinata, still stuck to Iwaizumi’s side, ends up in a circle with everyone else. Oikawa sits on the arm of the couch, trying both to play the game _and_ entertain his friends to little avail. He crashes his car and earns the laughs of the other boys as they jab him on the arm. Hinata laughs, too, but doesn’t feel it in his bones, not like he usually does. Instead, it rings hollow though his chest to settle like a dead weight in his stomach. He opens his mouth to say something, to catch Oikawa’s attention that he so craves, only to be stunned into silence by what one of his friends says next.

 _“This_ present is a lot better than that crap drawing, right Tooru?” he jeers, eyes darting towards Hinata as he elbows Oikawa’s side.

Something inside of Hinata breaks, the tears flowing before he can stop them. Already so close to the edge, Hinata’s face contorts with visible distress, matching the contortion of his stomach as he begins to cry in earnest. The sobs that wrack through his body are nowhere near silent, overpowering the sounds of the game and the party around him. His shoulders shudder, and his chest aches. Why, out of everyone there, is it always him? Why is it, even when he tries his best, even when he does everything he’s supposed to? 

There’s no answer to his unspoken questions— just the overwhelming silence as Oikawa tries to shush Hinata’s cries. “Shouyou, stop, he didn’t mean—”

“What did you get outta that, huh?!” Iwaizumi shouts, already advancing on the kid. “Didn’t you ever learn not to say something if it isn’t nice?!”

For some reason, Iwaizumi’s shouts only make Hinata cry more. He curls up, hugging his knees as he rocks back and forth, back and forth again. It does nothing to soothe the pain that ebbs through him, the pain that multiplies with every second the kids stay silent. Even Oikawa can’t bring himself to speak, mouthing wordlessly as Hinata hiccups. His present wasn’t supposed to be for the other kids— it was for Oikawa, for him, for Iwaizumi. Something for them all to remember and cherish. It was never supposed to be for anyone else. Never did Hinata think he was doing something wrong in giving Oikawa a gift from the heart. 

Iwaizumi reaches out, grabbing the collar of the kid’s shirt. It’s all too familiar— the raised fist, the cowering look in the kid’s eye as Iwaizumi pulls his arm back for the punch. The noise Hinata makes is one of pure terror. The high pitched keen draws Iwaizumi’s attention from the kid for a moment, stopping his fist moments before it collides with his face.

“Shouyou— wait, Hajime, let go!” Oikawa yells in complete panic, pulling Iwaizumi back. Somewhere in the commotion, the adults rush in, breaking apart the kids before Iwaizumi hits anyone. Haruko holds Hinata by the shoulders, kneeling down to his level while Ritsuko and Oikawa’s father keep a second fight from breaking out.

“What’s happening here?” Ritsuko asks, looking down at her son. “Tooru, Hajime, what was Shouyou—”

“It was Shouji!” Iwaizumi shouts, pointing towards the kid who he nearly hit. “They’ve _all_ been picking on Shouyou all day, and then _he_ keeps making fun of Shouyou’s gift and made him cry!”

“Jeez, I didn’t mean it,” Shouji whines, crossing his arms. “Why’d you have to invite a little kid anyway, Tooru?”

Oikawa stammers, unable to answer his school friend’s question. Oikawa’s father sighs, one hand on his hips as he holds out a hand.

“Shouji, lets go call your mom, okay? I think we need to have a talk with her.” Ritsuko stares at her husband as he walks Shouji away from the rest of the group and into the kitchen, where the landline phone is. 

“We don’t make fun of people here, okay boys?” Ritsuko says, her voice firmer than Hinata has ever heard it. “Tooru, why don’t you bring your friends outside to play for a bit? It’s a beautiful day outside.”

Oikawa bites his lip, hesitating. One longing look towards Hinata’s trembling frame is all he gives before motioning to the other boys, ready to lead them outside. It’s when he goes to grab Iwaizumi's sleeve that he meets resistance, Iwaizumi refusing to move from his place in the room.

“Hajime?” Oikawa asks, voice quiet, soft.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, frowning. “I’m not going. I don’t wanna hang out with them— I needa stay with Shouyou.”

In a matter of seconds, indignation takes over any concern Oikawa may have had. “But it’s _my_ party, and you're _my_ best friend!” 

Even the slight raise of tone worsens Hinata’s tears, the sniffling growing louder. Neither Iwaizumi nor Oikawa seem to notice as Iwaizumi clenches his fists and grits his teeth, narrowing his eyes at Oikawa.

 _“Shouyou_ is _our_ best friend! Why don’t you wanna help him?!” 

Haruko turns her head, hands not leaving Hinata’s sides. “Both of you, outside,” Haruko says in quiet fury. _“Now.”_

Shocked into silence, Iwaizumi and Oikawa turn to stare at Haruko. Without another word, they both follow after their school friends, heads hung low in a moment of surprise and shame. In their absence, Hinata’s sobs turn to hiccups, the silence of the room cloying. Haruko looks back to him, wiping away the tears from under his eyes.

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s okay, look— it’s just us,” she tells him.

Hinata opens his eyes, looking from her to Ritsuko. Neither of them shout, neither yell. All previous anger vanishes from their faces as they wait for Hinata to collect himself. Ritsuko even hands Hinata a second popsicle, a small respite from the salty taste of his own tears. He stops crying long enough to finish the snack, all the while Haruko and Ritsuko stand by his side.

“Do you wanna head home?” Haruko asks him the moment he stops sniffling.

At the first mention of home, Hinata’s eyes begin to well with tears once more. “No! I don’t wanna!” he cries, grabbing onto Haruko’s shirt. “I’ll be good, I promise! But I don’t wanna go home! Please don’t make me go home! _Please!”_

Haruko shushes him, petting his hair. “It’s okay, Shouyou, we don’t have to take you home.” She stops, looking behind Hinata with a frown. “Hajime, I told you to—”

Hinata turns, watching as Iwaizumi rushes back through the patio door. “But— but I want to help!” Iwaizumi protests.

At the sight of his friend, so earnest in his desire to be by Hinata’s side, Hinata reaches out to him. In that moment, Iwaizumi’s face relaxes before twisting up, his own tears rising. Iwaizumi, the strongest person in the world, cries as he rushes over, tackling Hinata into a hug. His mother doesn’t stop him once Hinata hugs back, once Hinata buries his face in Iwaizumi’s shoulder and refuses to let go. They stay like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms a moment longer, until Haruko rests her chin on Iwaizumi’s head and pulls Ritsuko closer. The two women wrap around them, holding the crying boys tight until their tears refuse to fall.

“You boys can go upstairs in Oikawa’s room, okay? He’ll be up there to join you once everyone else heads on home,” Ritsuko tells them. “And take another popsicle, okay?”

Iwaizumi and Hinata untangle themselves, hands still firmly clasped together. They each take a popsicle from the box before making their way upstairs, to the solace that awaits them. It may not be a party, but it’s all Hinata needs now. Sugar, Iwaizumi, and him, waiting for the day that they can be together without tears.

—

In the backyard, Oikawa sits in the grass. His friends kick a soccer ball between themselves, tossing it to Oikawa every so often. Their chatter has died down, their mood somewhat dulled by Shouji’s earlier stunt.

Why did it have to be Oikawa’s birthday? Out of all of the days, out of all the parties, it had to be his. He did everything right— he invited all his friends, he helped his mom make the best sweets, and even went so far as to spend the whole morning decorating. It was supposed to be _his_ day. It was supposed to be a day where Hinata and Iwaizumi could see him happy, could share in his excitement. Instead, he’s left to pout in the grass, party ruined as his two best friends do whatever crybabies do.

Oikawa frowns. Calling them crybabies isn’t much nicer than what Shouji said, but at least he’s telling the truth. Shouji just wanted to pick on Hinata, but Oikawa knows Hinata cries a lot. Before he came along, Oikawa was the crybaby out of him and Iwaizumi. _He_ was the one who needed protecting. 

Why can’t he protect Hinata now, if he’s strong enough to be left alone?

“Hey, Tooru, are there any more popsicles?” Ren asks.

Oikawa shakes his head. Truthfully, he doesn’t feel like going inside to ask, doesn’t feel like facing the adults and seeing what awaits. His friend sighs and goes back to kicking the ball, waving off another kid whose parents have come to pick him up. The party is as good as over, and Oikawa has had enough.

“Y’know, I saw _Shouyou_ eating a bite of Hajime’s popsicle. Isn’t that gross?” Ren asks. He kicks the ball towards the fence and sits next to Oikawa. “That's like, cooties.”

“Germs,” Oikawa corrects, the gravity of Ren’s words settling in on him. Iwaizumi shared sweets with Hinata on _his_ birthday, and yet, he didn’t wish he got a taste. He wishes _he_ was the one Hinata turned to for a taste, the one Hinata sought out to share with. 

One by one, all of his school friends vanish, their parents walking them out of the backyard and beyond the fence. Oikawa is once again alone, with nothing but the sweet taste of chocolate lingering on his tongue to accompany him in the grass. With a deep breath, he braves himself to head back inside, creeping through the patio door to cross through the kitchen. It’s as he goes to head up the stairs that he hears it— his and Iwaizumi’s mother, speaking through a half open door.

“That wasn’t just a meltdown,” Haruko says, her voice wavering. “Ritsuko, I _know_ what a meltdown looks like. That’s something— that was something more.”

“I know, I know. But what are we supposed to do?” His mother sounds tired, sounds _exhausted._ Oikawa pictures her pinching her brow how she always does when he and his sister fight, her nose upturned. 

“I _know_ something is going on in that house. This— this is proof. This and all those bruises he gets. Those are _more_ than a rambunctious child gets,” Haruko continues, her voice brash and loud. “Ayame might not want to talk about it or admit it but I _know—”_

“We can’t force these things, as much as we want to.” There’s a pause, and the sound of footsteps. “You know that better than anyone, Haruko.”

What do they know that Oikawa doesn’t? His own mother’s words sound like lies, as alien as Hinata’s pain that afternoon. Confusion swells in his chest, until the voices from the open door are unintelligible. Sick to his stomach, Oikawa runs up to his room, and opens the door to a much different sight. 

Curled up on his bed is Hinata, fast asleep with his head laying on Iwaizumi’s lap. Iwaizumi doesn't look up as Oikawa enters, his gaze fixed on Hinata.

Oikawa swallows the rock in his throat. “Is… is he okay?” he asks him.

Iwaizumi snaps out of his thoughts, swinging his head up to look at Oikawa, like he didn’t even notice him enter. The emotion that bubbles up in Oikawa’s chest catches him by surprise— anger. Irritation.

“I— he tired himself out, I think,” Iwaizumi says. 

Silence overtakes them. Oikawa, a stranger in his own bedroom, approaches his bed. Hinata shifts slightly in his sleep, hair covering one eye. Oikawa sits beside him and resists the urge to fix it. There’s no sign of the earlier distraught on his face, sleep making a perfect picture of peace. The weight of his inaction settles upon him in that moment, watching Hinata’s face mid-sleep. It was _him_ who didn’t speak up when Shouji picked on Hinata. It was _him_ who flushed red in embarrassment when he received Hinata’s gift. Who was he to feel shame? Who was he to feel close to tears watching his party fall into shambles?

The longer he stares at Hinata, the more his guilt begins to grow. The longer he sits at his side, the more he feels as if Iwaizumi can sense his fear. 

But Iwaizumi only has eyes for Hinata. He stares with a single minded focus, like a dog would a bird in a cage. Watching, waiting, unable to do much more than look. Mere inches from him, Oikawa still feels a lifetime away, as if he could never be in the place where Iwaizumi sits, no matter how hard he tries. Every popsicle in the world wouldn’t be enough to make Hinata’s pain go away, and no adult has the power to turn back the clock and make the day rewind. 

It’s only fair that Oikawa’s day fell apart. Hinata didn’t even _get_ to have a party, after all.

The clock slowly whittles the hours and minutes away, time passing with only the faintest _tick_ and _tock._ Neither Oikawa nor Iwaizumi notice how long it’s been, with only small words shared between the two of them as Hinata stays asleep. It’s only when Ritsuko creaks open Oikawa’s door that the suspended, unbroken peace around them recedes back into reality. The two of them immediately lock eyes with her, her own gaze soft and fond at the sight of Hinata asleep and curled up with his head still in Iwaizumi’s lap.

“Shouyou’s mom is here to get him,” she says, making her way into the room. Her voice is regretful. Pained. Iwaizumi nudges Hinata awake, rocking his shoulder until sleep eyes blink open. 

“Do I have to go home now?” Hinata asks. His voice is smaller than Oikawa’s ever heard it. His heart aches.

“We can play together tomorrow,” Oikawa promises. He forces a smile, nauseated to his core. “Right?”

Hinata looks to Iwaizumi, and nods. “Okay.”

Ritsuko walks over and takes his hand, helping Hinata step off of the bed. _Just once,_ Oikawa tells himself. _Just once look back at me like you did him._ Iwaizumi could be his favourite for all time if Hinata would just look at him, lean on him, give him that very same smile. 

But Hinata disappears with a wave, and without a single glance back.

**Author's Note:**

> wanna talk to us or ask us questions about any of our projects or find out how to read chapters early? you can find us at [@mookzymooks](https://twitter.com/mookzymooks) and [@lesbianiwaizumi](https://twitter.com/lesbianiwaizumi) on twitter.


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